


Resignation

by jolayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Catholic School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolayne/pseuds/jolayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John sends his sons to an all-boys Catholic school, Dean thinks his life is basically over. It's his senior year, and Dean's never wanted anything for himself, resigned to a life following his workaholic father's footsteps. And then Dean meets Castiel, his perplexing new roommate who's dealing with some heavy resignation of his own. They pirate movies, punch people, and set each other free.</p><p>(Originally published on ff.net under the name "No Sound for You")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resignation

Chapter 1.

"Catholic school?" Sam yells, outraged. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! We're not even Catholic." The fourteen-year-old's hair flops into his reddening face and he angrily pushes it back.  
"Watch your language," Dean chides. In all honestly, he couldn't give less of a fuck what kind of language comes out of his little brother's mouth. Dean's just trying to control his own anger, which is visible nonetheless. He crosses his arms across his chest and stares straight ahead at the grainy screen of their hotel room's antique TV. It's tuned to a mindless cartoon that neither of the Winchester boys find even mildly entertaining, but changing the channel would require getting up and physically turning the knob and neither of them are in the mood for that right now, their dad's recent announcement still hanging in the air.  
"This has to be the dumbest thing Dad has ever done," Sam complains. Dean thinks almost immediately of several much dumber things their dad has done than sending them to Catholic school for a semester - like, for instance, being a travelling salesman as well as a single dad - but he doesn't say that. Instead, Dean does the only thing he knows how to do on the not-infrequent occasions when his life turns to shit. He jokes.  
"Come on Sammy, it's not all that bad!" he assures his brother with a charming smile as shallow as an inflatable kiddie pool. "Those Catholic schoolgirl uniforms? Dude, we'll basically be living inside a porno."  
"Dean," Sam says. "It's an all-boys school."  
For a minute, the room is silent apart from the dull buzz of the muted television while the older Winchester allows this new information to sink in. Then, Dean curses loudly and gives up on trying to defend his father, because John can miss as many goddamn Christmases as he wants, or move them into as many shitty motels as his salary will allow, but sending Dean Winchester to a school with no girls is crossing a line that should never, ever be crossed.  
Dean had never been good at making friends. He's not like Sam, who seems to attract bromance like flies to honey. Guys don't like Dean. They tend to see his good looks and charming personality as a threat rather than endearing, and usually Dean's okay with that because he's off fucking their girlfriends anyway. Hell, he deserves it. But without girls, what is the goddamn point of going to school? Dean really can't see it.  
"Well, maybe the nuns will be hot," he jokes, but it's half-hearted. Sam rolls his eyes.  
"Doesn't it bother you that dad is just dumping us off at some boarding school though? Catholic or all-boys or not, whatever. It's like he doesn't want anything to do with us anymore." Dean can see in his brother's eyes that he's really upset about this and it damn near breaks his heart. To Dean this betrayal was inevitable, it's just like all the times John's left them in hotel rooms for weeks without even calling, just on a larger scale. Dean's a senior in high school, he can deal. But to Sam, Dean realizes with a pang, this is the last nail in the coffin of his hope that maybe one day their dad would settle down with a job somewhere and they could have a normal life. Dean remembers when that last nail was pounded in for him, and all of a sudden he wants to hug Sam and tell him that it gets better, because it does, once the hope is gone, once there's nothing left of your childhood to take away. Instead, Dean pats his brother on the shoulder and gets up from the bed to grab a lukewarm beer from the table. By the time he falls asleep under the gentle buzz of drunkenness Sam is already snoring at his side.  
"What do you mean we can't be roommates?" Dean all but screams at the beaky nun in front of him. She calmly steeples her fingers atop the wooden desk and gives Dean a look that says, "Good sir, I respectfully implore you to calm the fuck down," and it pisses him the hell off. In the chair beside him, Sam stares sadly at his knees. At a loss, Dean looks to John for help.  
"Listen, Sister, isn't there anything we can do about this? The boys have been through a lot together and I'd really be more comfortable with them being here if they could room together," John says, leaning forward across the sister's desk and turning his salesman’s charm up to full blast. For a second, Dean is almost moved enough to forgive his dad for leaving them here.  
"I'm sorry Mr. Winchester, but our rules are quite strict here at Our Lady of the Stars. We house our students based on their grade levels. To make an exception, even for the purest of intentions, would make room for anarchy. I'm sure you understand." Admonished, John leans back in his seat with a defeated sigh. "Listen," the nun says softly, glancing to the side as if watching for eavesdroppers. "I can give you this." She slides a form of some sort across the desk and Dean takes it. "It's an alternate housing appeal. As headmistress, I am in charge of all initial housing placements, but your counselor, Sister Ellen, might be a little more… lenient. A couple of days from now, if you're unhappy with your roommate you can fill it out and bring it to her office. If you've got a good enough case you might be considered for alternative housing. But you must have a better reason than 'because I want to,' do I make myself clear?" Dean nods and flashes the headmistress a small smile which she doesn't return.  
"Well then!" she says pleasantly, getting up from her desk. "Let's see our rooms, shall we?"  
Sam's roommate is a small, gangly boy named Ash with too long hair and a spacey but kind personality. He and Sam hit it off almost immediately, babbling non-stop about some new videogame Ash is playing. When John clears his throat Sam stops talking long enough to give his dad a small hug goodbye and Dean notes with relief that there's almost no resentment in his eyes when he does it.  
Dean and Sam make plans to meet up for dinner, though Sam is visibly distracted by whatever handheld gaming system Ash is showing him. Then the headmistress leads the way to Dean's room.  
Dean spends the entire walk up to the senior floor of the dorm building silently trying to work out exactly how to say goodbye to his dad, and whether he will do so angrily or not, and whether to hug him or shake his hand or decline to participate in physical contact all together. By the time they've reached room 416 Dean's decided to be cordial about their farewell but not too warm. After all, Dean's a realist, and part of him thinks this very well might be the last he ever sees of John. He doesn't want this goodbye to be something that either of them dwells on for very long.  
The headmistress gives a short rap on the door before pushing it open. At one of the room's two desks sits a slender, pale boy. He sits up straight as the three of them walk into the dorm, his deep blue eyes passing briefly over John and the headmistress before resting for a barely discernible second longer on Dean. The two make eye contact and for a fraction of a second there's a look on the other boy's face that Dean can't place. But then it's gone, and he looks back at the headmistress with a smile that even Dean has to admit is charming as hell.  
"Sister," he says with a small nod.  
"Dean, Mr. Winchester, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is Dean Winchester and his father. Dean will be your new roommate," the headmistress says. There's certain reluctance in the way she says it, like she's apologizing for some reason, and for a second Dean is offended. But if Castiel is anywhere near as disappointed with his new roommate as the nun's tone seems to suggest he should be, he doesn't let on. He flashes a modest smile and gets to his feet, politely shaking hands with John and Dean in turn.  
"Castiel has been with us for quite some time, the headmistress explains when the silence in the room becomes tight. "He'll be able to show you around before your classes start tomorrow so I trust you will be punctual." Dean nods.  
"Well," John says. "I should get going. I've got a meeting to get to in Lima in a few hours so I'd better hit the road."  
Dean feels an uncomfortable, despicable fucking lump in his throat and he almost wants to punch it. He can't cry. He won't. Not in front of his dad, not in front of his new roommate, and certainly not in front of Sister "I Trust You'll Be Punctual." So he sticks a hand out to his father and they shake, exchange wishes for good luck, and John leaves, and the nun leaves, and Castiel is looking at Dean in a way that makes him feel like some exquisite abstract painting in a hoity-toity art museum. Dean starts unpacking.  
"Here, let me help you with that," Castiel says, getting up from his desk.  
"No, I got it." Dean insists. He feels sort of weird about the idea of someone else touching his clothes. So Castiel sits back down and returns to his book while Dean packs his clothes away into the bottom two drawers of the room's only dresser, thinking how typical it is that Sam got the cool-for-a-freshman videogame-playing roommate while Dean seems to have gotten the quiet, studious type with inhumanly blue eyes. Not that it matters much to him. He doesn't figure he'll be getting very close to his roommate either way. He's grabbing the last pair of jeans out of his suitcase when he happens to look up and realize Castiel's eyes are right on him. Instead of looking away like a normal person, Castiel holds his gaze with that same perplexed look on his face, the one that makes Dean feel like a Picasso.  
Dean's been looked at a lot of different ways by a lot of different people. He's been sized up by people who wanted to fight him, glared at by people who wanted to kill him, eye-fucked by people who wanted to sleep with him. He's been looked at with admiration by Sammy and disappointment by John. But he's never been looked at like this before. Castiel is looking at him like he honestly would like nothing in the world more than to figure Dean out, to put him together like a 3,000 piece puzzle.  
It makes Dean feel interesting and complex, words that until now would be at the very bottom of any list of adjectives he would ever use to describe himself. But it's nice, being looked at like that. Strange- and Dean's not denying that this guy is a total basket case- but refreshing.  
"So are we allowed to leave campus?" Dean asks. Castiel looks back at the book on his desk, which Dean realizes is an enormous text on the history of Christianity. He flips a page absently and runs a hand through his messy black hair.  
"Seniors can, on weekends," he answers. Dean is overjoyed as this news means he might not be on sexual probation for the rest of the semester.  
"Awesome. So how's a guy supposed to get laid around here?" Dean asks. It's not really the first thing on his mind at the moment, but the thought of sex, this now nearly unattainable goal of getting laid, distracts him from the more troubling things in his life that he just really doesn't want to deal with. Like his feelings about his dad, and about being here in this school for an entire semester where his actions will have at least semi-long-term consequences because he can't just move to another state in a few weeks and forget about all the mistakes he makes here. "I mean, not around here," he continues. "Like, by girls. Who don't go here."  
"I'm not entirely sure. I've never really looked into it. Not exactly…interested," Castiel says. His voice gets really quiet toward the end of it and all of a sudden all of the things Dean has noticed about him start to click into place and everything makes a lot more sense.  
"Ah," Dean says. "That's cool. But hypothetically, if you were interested, what would you do?"  
"Pray to God for forgiveness and the strength to move on past my fleshly desires," he says with an absolutely straight face. Then, after a well-timed comedic pause, he starts to smile and it's possibly the smuggest facial expression Dean has ever seen a human being wear and it suits him. "You should see the look on your face," Castiel says, dimples forming in his cheeks as his smile broadens. Dean really can't help but smile back, happy at least that his roommate can joke.  
Once Dean's finished packing, Castiel gives him a thorough tour of the campus, starting with all his classrooms which are thankfully all in the same building and right next to the dorms. Then they take a walk to the other side of campus, trudging through the un-shoveled snow on the sidewalks. Dean makes a mental note to buy some new boots as the icy stuff seeps through the worn leather of his shoes, chilling him to the bone.  
The entire campus seems to be home to an all-out snowball war. Dean remembers with some fondness having snowball fights with Sam, most of which ended with Dean pelting Sam in the face and Sam crying and Dean feeling bad and running him a hot bath when they got inside. Dean never had any kids his age to play with and he always ended up taking things one step too far with his little brother. Part of him wants to start throwing snowballs.  
"So, Castiel, what are you in for?" Dean asks, his breath coming out in little clouds because Christ, it's cold.  
"What gave you the impression that attending this school is such a punishment?" Castiel asks. Dean wonders if he's offended him somehow.  
"I just meant-"  
"It's fine. I know it must…suck here for one not accustomed to Catholic school." Dean tries not to laugh at the way his new roommate hesitates on the word "suck" like he's never said it before.  
"So, what, you've gone here for a while then?"  
"My whole life, actually. But I'd rather hear about you. What are you…'in for?''  
Dean can't imagine going to one school your whole life, much less one that you live at, even less one without girls. No wonder the dude says he's not "interested" in them. He's probably never even seen one wearing anything other than a habit.  
"If you had to guess, what do you think my crime would be?" Dean asks, purposefully avoiding the subject of his father. That's a story he doesn't really like to share with anyone. Not that there are stories he does like to share. Dean's about as far away from an open book as a person can possibly get. In fact, if Dean had to be a book, all of his pages would probably be glued together. With super glue. Though, if what Castiel has told him about his childhood is true and he really has gone to this boarding school his entire life, he must know a little something about distant fathers himself.  
"Sex," Castiel answers too quickly and Dean can't help but laugh. "My guess would be that your dad caught you fornicating one too many times and sent you here to put a stop to it," Castiel elaborates. "And before you confirm or deny, just know that I've heard it all before."  
"Great guess," Dean says, still grinning. His socks are now completely drenched and he's starting to lose feeling in his toes, but he doesn't really care anymore. "Only thing is, my dad doesn't give a shit what I do."  
Castiel holds up a gloved hand, pausing the conversation. They're standing in the middle of a roomy, icy patio, complete with snow-covered picnic tables and chairs. The patio is encircled on all four sides by buildings.  
"This is the center of campus," Castiel says. He points out the gym, the cafeteria, and the library, the three of which make up the immense stone buildings surrounding the patio like a fortress. It gives off a very medieval vibe, unlike the more modern architecture of the dorms and classrooms. Completing the ambiance is the school's chapel, towering above the rest of the campus on a little hill just beyond the patio. It's not that steep, but Dean still thinks it looks like a bitch to climb in such icy weather. He wonders if church attendance is mandatory, and how he's going to manage staying awake if so. As if reading his mind, Castiel says, "There's a short mass on Monday and Wednesday mornings before class starts and, of course, a full-length one every Sunday. They don't check roll but if you're seen around campus when you're supposed to be in church there are consequences. So you were saying—your dad doesn't care what you do?"  
Dean's not sure why he does it, maybe because it seems like Castiel's got it just as hard, or maybe it's just the cold getting to him. But he explains his life to this boy as they walk back to the dorms together. How his mom was killed by a drunk driver when he was four, how his dad makes a living as a travelling salesman and how, consequently, Dean and Sam have never lived in one town for more than a year. He tells Castiel all about Sam, too, and how smart he is, and how proud Dean is of him and how he practically raised the kid. And all the while Castiel is looking at Dean with that same captivated, puzzled expression and Dean realizes that he's really listening to him. Hell, this might be the first time anyone's ever really listened to him about this shit. It's the first time Dean can remember ever really telling anyone, and shit, it feels good.  
Suddenly, the housing appeal in Dean's pocket weighs about 100 pounds.

Chapter 2

"Is he drunk?" Dean practically yells at Sam later that night. They're seated at one of the cafeteria's circular dining tables eating what has to be the best meal Dean has had in a long time. Not that he's in any mood to appreciate that.  
"Dean, shhh!" Sam whispers frantically, looking over his shoulder. They're referring to Sam's roommate, Ash, who just moments before had excused himself to go to the "little boys room," stumbling several times on his way.  
"I'm fucking serious, Sam," Dean continues, quieter this time. "Is your roommate intoxicated? Yes or no." Sam hesitates before answering.  
"Yes," he finally says.  
"Sam, that's not okay. You're in the fucking ninth grade, you shouldn't be getting drunk."  
"I'm not drunk! If I were, you'd be able to tell." Sam protests. And while Dean can't argue with that—Sam had gotten drunk off one of their dad's beers once while Dean wasn't watching him and he's such a lightweight his face was red for like three hours—he still can't help but feel like there's something really messed up about the whole situation. He's supposed to protect Sam, to make sure he doesn't get hurt. How can he do that if they're not living together, don't have any classes together, and Sam's roommate is a perpetual drunk?  
"Do you know how much trouble you could get into if you got caught with alcohol in your room? This is a Catholic school for God's sake. I'm turning in that paperwork to get you switched out of there ASAP," Dean says. To be honest, he's a little bit glad that this happened. He felt weird not being in the same room as Sam and now he has an actual reason to get them switched. Even if Ash does get expelled in the process.  
"Dean you can't do this. I like Ash, okay?" Sam says earnestly. "He's cool, he's funny, and he's the first real friend I've had in a while." Dean can't help but think of Castiel when Sam says it. "So what if he's irresponsible? He's like, a genius, he knows what he's doing and he's not going to get caught. Dean, you gotta let me make my own decisions. Just this once." Sam utilizes his all-too-effective puppy face and Dean feels his resolve weaken almost immediately.  
"We are not having this discussion," Dean finally says, and though part of him feels bad for it, he doesn't let it show. Sam spends the rest of dinner sulking into his mashed potatoes. Ash never comes back from the bathroom.  
As Dean lays in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the quiet sound of Castiel's breath, he replays his and Sam's discussion over and over again in his head.  
He wants Sam to have friends, he really does. He wants Sam to be able to be his own person, to grow and make mistakes and learn from them. God knows Dean did when he was Sam's age. But he's fourteen years old and Dean's still his big brother, and he wants to protect him from everything even though he knows that he can't. He doesn't know where to draw the line between "overprotective" and "actual good judgment call." And he doesn't want Sam to hate him, which he definitely would if he got Sam's only friend expelled.  
In the end, Dean decides to fill out the housing appeal just in case, thinking he can always turn it in later if the worst should happen. He fills out his name, Sam's name, his grade, and his room number, but when he gets to "reason for change," he puts the pen down with a sigh. He needs to make up a fabricated reason for the change, one that will ensure immediate approval without getting anyone in trouble. Finally, he comes up with one. One involving Castiel.  
With every word Dean writes on the little slip of paper he hates himself a little bit more. He feels dirty and wicked and guilty as hell, but he does it because he thinks he has to. He tells himself he's doing it to protect Sam, to pull him out of harm's reach if he ever teeters too close. But some basic part of Dean knows that he fills out that paper for his own goddamn self. Because he needs to be close to Sam, he needs the familiarity of his brother because the kid is all he's got. Because if he's not looking after Sam then what the hell is his life for? And because he's scared of Castiel, of what Dean's confided in him already, and of the way Castiel looks at Dean, and of the way it makes Dean feel.  
So he fills out the form and puts it in the bottom of his suitcase "just in case" he tells himself, and he goes to bed and tries to sleep despite the guilt twisting his stomach and Castiel's face, soft and concerned, floating in the darkness of his mind.

When Dean wakes up the next morning, Castiel is already dressed and studying at his desk.  
"Morning," he says roughly as Dean gets out of bed. Dean grunts in response. Castiel gestures to a pile of clothes on Dean's desk. "Sister Ellen brought those over this morning. It's your school uniform." Dean picks up the clothes and rushes to the bathroom to shower and change because he can't stand being in the same room as Castiel right now, which is a problem since they live together. He wonders, as he showers, just how long that housing appeal is going to have to sit at the bottom of his suitcase before he can look his roommate in the eye again. Eventually though, his mind moves on to other things, like how nervous he is for the first day of class, and how much he doesn't want to go to church even for ten minutes, and how stupid he looks in his uniform of khaki pants, white button-down shirt, navy blue blazer and blue and grey-striped tie. And how he doesn't know how to tie a tie.  
When Dean walks out of the bathroom, hair wet and tie slung awkwardly around his neck, (he never really learned how to tie one, and actually can't remember wearing one in his life) well, there's really not much he can do when Castiel offers to tie it for him. So he stands there, looking everywhere but Castiel's face as the boy's slender fingers swiftly and expertly secure the tie around Dean's neck. Dean manages a flustered, "thanks," and then he darts out the door as quickly as possible and tries to focus his mind on something, anything else.  
It's Monday, so Dean makes his way to the little chapel in which Mass is held, slipping into the steady flow of students doing the same. No one seems to notice him, which he appreciates. He realizes after a few minutes that in his rush to leave the dorm he forgot his coat in his suitcase and all of a sudden he's fucking cold. But it's too late to go back and get it now so he keeps walking, wrapping his arms around his chest and thinking that if there is a God, somehow the ancient looking stone chapel will have central heating.  
Dean's only been to church a couple of times before in all his life, and he's never been to a Catholic mass before so he's not sure what to expect. He picks a seat near the back of the chapel next to a boy about his age. After a few minutes of sitting in silence waiting for the service to begin, Dean pulls out his phone and composes a message to Sam.  
"I'm going to give you a chance living with Ash," it says. "But the first reason either of you gives me to change that, I'm turning the housing appeal in. it's all filled out and ready to go. Bitch. "  
"You might wanna put that away," the boy next to him whispers once the message is sent. Dean puts the phone on silent and slides it back into his pocket. "I've seen kids get caught texting in here before and it ain't pretty," the boy says, holding out his hand to Dean. Dean shakes it, keeping his gaze trained on the front of the church (which he thinks is called the altar but he's not exactly sure) because the mass is starting and he wants to at least look like he's paying attention. "I'm Gordon," the boy says.  
"Dean," Dean whispers.  
"You new here, Dean?" Dean just nods in response and when he doesn't elaborate, Gordon doesn't ask him to. "You a senior?" he says.  
"Yeah."  
"Cool, me too." Up at the altar the ancient, hunchy priest is muttering something about salvation but Dean really doesn't care to listen.  
"The priest looks like he's about to keel over up there," Dean comments, realizing after he says it that he probably shouldn't have. It's difficult to remember sometimes that not everyone here is a morbid heathen like him and sooner or later he's bound to offend someone. Luckily, Gordon laughs. Though it's hushed, it's a hearty, genuine sound, and Dean thinks he could learn to like this kid, even if he does give off a sort of bossy, superior vibe.  
"Yeah, Father O'Connor's been on the brink of life and 'eternal salvation' for as long as I can remember. The fact that he's still even breathing by this point makes me more inclined to believe in divine intervention than anything he's ever said up there."  
A short, stout nun with flat blonde hair shushes them, so they don't say much for the rest of the short service. When it's over, Gordon invites Dean to come sit with his friends at breakfast but Dean declines, saying he wants to find his brother. Dean can't remember ever eating breakfast without Sam, and he doesn't plan on starting now.  
But it's Sam that finds Dean. On his way out of the chapel he feels a soft punch on the back of his shoulder and turns around to see his brother, Ash in tow. "I got your text. Jerk," Sam says, and there's a huge smile on his face and Ash looks just as sober as anyone. As they walk to the cafeteria together, Dean is almost certain he's made the right choice in giving Sam a chance with his roommate.  
At breakfast Dean gets to know Ash a little bit better. Turns out Sam wasn't lying—the kid is a genius. He goes to Our Lady of the Stars because he wants to, because it's the best high school in the area and he thinks it'll prepare him for MIT, where he wants to study computer programming. He's clearly a motivated kid, and despite his tendency to disregard all rules and laws he finds idiotic, which is most of them, Dean has to say he thinks that, for now at least, Ash will be more of a positive influence on his brother than a negative one. Sam seems to sense this, and he eats his Lucky Charms with a smug "I-told-you-so" grin.  
Dean keeps looking for Castiel the whole meal but he never does see him.  
When Dean walks into his first period class, U.S History, he notices Gordon sitting toward the back. There's an empty seat next to him so Dean takes it.  
"Hey, Dean," Gordon says. He introduces Dean to his friends in nearby seats and Dean doesn't remember a single one of their names. Sam has always been good with names somehow but Dean, not so much. He usually just doesn't see the point—he's just going to move away soon anyway and he'll be given a whole new list of names to not learn. Maybe this time he'll make an effort. Just not today. "Dean just moved here from- where did you say you were from?"  
"I didn't," Dean says. He really doesn't mean to make it sound as rude as it comes out, so he adds, "Washington," for good measure.  
"Washington the state?" Gordon asks, wide-eyed. Dean nods. "Shit man, you came a long ass way."  
"Tell me about it."  
"You forgot your coat," says a gruff, unmistakable voice and Dean turns around to see Castiel standing right behind him, holding said coat with a curious expression on his face that Dean can't decipher. He does know that whatever the expression is, the emotions behind it are totally fucked and there's that goddamn guilt again in an overpowering wave that makes Dean's teeth hurt. Before Dean can thank him for bringing his coat, Castiel wordlessly drops it on his desk and walks stiffly to an empty seat near the front of the classroom.  
Dean takes less than a second to ponder why Castiel is being so cold before realization hits him like a semi. Dean's coat had been left in his suitcase. Right on top of his housing appeal. Castiel must have read it, he must have read what Dean wrote about him, and Jesus Christ earlier that morning Dean would have told anyone that it wasn't possible to make him feel any more guilty, and he would have been dead wrong. He wants to throw up.  
"You alright Dean?" Gordon says, and the words seem to be coming from miles away. "You look like you just walked in on your parents having sex or something." Dean manages a smile but he knows it's weak.  
"I'm fine," he says, glaring at the back of Castiel's head.  
"Dude, why did he have your coat?" asks one of Gordon's friends.  
"We're roommates. Why, do you know him?"  
Gordon and his friends let out a collective "Awww, dude!" in a way that makes it sound like Dean just confessed to faceplanting in dog shit rather than having Castiel as a roommate.  
"I'm so sorry, man," Gordon says. Dean raises an eyebrow.  
"Why?" he asks. Dean knows Castiel is a bit on the weird side but he can't imagine what about him could be so bad that this many people seem to be unanimously sympathetic.  
"Dude's a total faggot!" Gordon explains, and Dean's desire to throw up while simultaneously ceasing to exist intensifies. "I'm surprised they keep sticking guys in his room." Dean doesn't say anything, just turns around and faces the front, face pale and stomach twisting because that's exactly what he wrote on the stupid fucking paper and it's actually true and Castiel saw it.  
"Unwanted advances," Dean had written. "Roommate made unwanted advances on me." It was a lie and they both knew it. Dean's not a homophobe. He doesn't give one single fuck if Castiel is gay. He just wrote it because he thought the administration at Our Lady of the Right-Wing Shitheads would care enough to change his room. But now he thinks back to what Gordon said, that he was "surprised they keep sticking guys in his room," and oh god this had probably happened to him before. And Castiel had been so understanding and so different from anyone Dean had ever talked to and he'd gone and fucked everything up and if Dean is this upset what is Castiel feeling right now?  
Dean doesn't pay attention to a single thing that happens in class that day. He doesn't pay attention to much that happens in any of his other classes either. Turns out he has two more classes with Gordon, in which Dean avoids him as much as possible. Gordon looks confused but makes no real attempt to communicate with him and Dean is glad.  
Turns out he has one more class with Castiel, too. Religious studies, the last class of the day, taught by the prettiest nun Dean has seen at school so far. But she's still not pretty in a fuckable way, not even in an erotically innocent virgin kind of way. And Dean's too distracted by Castiel's presence in the room to give it much thought anyway.  
He sits as far away from him as the four walls of the classroom permit and spends the entirety of the particularly boring class trying to figure out if there's any way at all to explain himself to Castiel without sounding like a complete douchebag. In the end he figures there's really nothing he can do but just lay it out there and hope that Castiel forgives him or at least doesn't hate him or something. When the last bell finally rings dismissing class, Dean hurries out of his seat to catch up with Castiel but in the rush of students he loses him.  
With nothing else to do, Dean goes back to the dorm and gets started on what homework he managed to copy down. Dean's not really a homework type of person, and when he is, he's really more of a "midnight-of-the-morning-it's-due" kind of homework type of person. But there's too much in his head and he just wants to fill it with math problems and squeeze out all the real ones. He barely understands any of it, letters and numbers blurring before his eyes because no matter how hard he tries to think about statistics he just can't.  
By the time Castiel walks quietly into the room a few hours later, Dean has managed to scribble out like a page of notes that, if he were to go back and read them, would make about as much sense to him as Mandarin Chinese.  
"Hey," Castiel says, and it's quiet but pleasant enough, and Dean is confused because seriously what the hell? If Dean were him, he would have skipped the greeting altogether and just started throwing punches.  
"Castiel, listen," he says, "I am so sorry."  
Castiel looks even more perplexed than usual.  
"Sorry for what?" he asks. And now Dean is seriously confused. Either Castiel is being horrifyingly passive-aggressive or Dean severely misinterpreted his mood earlier.  
No, fuck that. He had been giving Dean a shoulder so cold that he could practically see the vapor rising off from it. Dean might be mediocre at a lot of things, but reading people isn't one of them.  
"Earlier, when you gave me my coat… you weren't mad about anything?" he says uneasily.  
"Oh. That. I was not mad. Not at you, at least. It's just… Gordon, he, well." Castiel sighs, like he's having trouble finding the right words. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. That is not my intention at all. But Gordon is not a good person. I would advise you to stay away from him. I… I speak from experience." And there's that pained expression again, the same one he gave Dean in History, and Dean knows that he should feel bad for Castiel but really he's just so happy that he hasn't seen the housing appeal he can barely contain himself. His lungs flood with relief.  
"I know. That's what I wanted to apologize for," Dean lies. When you gave me my coat Gordon started talking about you and… God what an asshole." It's not the entire truth in that it wasn't what Dean originally apologized for, but it's not exactly a lie either. He does think Gordon is an asshole, and had he known what a douchebag the guy was he never would have talked to him.  
"It's fine," Castiel says with a small, grateful smile that Dean can't help but think suits him very well. "You couldn't have known."  
"Yeah but, I just. Listen, Cas, I don't want you to think I'm like Gordon. I'm not. At all. What he said about you… I'm cool with it."  
"Dean, I'm not gay," Castiel says. Dean is confused all over again. He's always thought of himself as a relatively complicated person but this guy's in a whole separate ball park of complexity.  
"You're not? No offense, but you totally fit the bill. I mean, what was with the whole, 'I'm not interested in girls' deal?"  
Castiel sits down on his bed with a sigh.  
"I'm not interested in girls," he says, sounding slightly irritated, like he's had this conversation one too many times. "But I'm not interested in guys, either. I can't be. In either. I am… to be ordained."  
"Ordained?"  
"As a priest," Castiel says. Dean's eyes widen.  
"You're kidding me," he says. Castiel tilts his head slightly in confusion. "I mean, you just don't seem like the type. You're too, I don't know, not boring." Or ugly, Dean thinks, and he only barely manages to avoid saying it out loud.  
"It is my calling," Castiel says hesitantly, and Dean wonders if maybe there's a story there that his roommate doesn't want to share, if maybe Castiel is being pushed along into this lifestyle the same way Dean's own father is carefully molding a career for him in sales. But he lets it go.  
"Okay then. Not gay, celibate. Hey, whatever floats your boat. Or… doesn't float it, I guess."  
"I don't have a boat," Castiel says, tilting his head again. Dean snorts.  
As soon as Castiel leaves to shower, Dean tears the housing appeal to shreds and sprinkles the pieces out the window where they blow away and become lost in the snow.

Chapter 3

The next few days pass in relative peace and boredom. Dean does his best to stay away from Gordon, but it's hard to ignore the purposefully loud whispers that pass between him and his friends every time Dean is anywhere near them. Dean doesn't know how Castiel has put up with it all these years without snapping and punching the dick bag in the face. When he expresses as much to his roommate, Castiel reminds him that not everyone is violent by nature. But there's a certain glimmer in his eyes as he says it that makes Dean think that maybe, just once or twice, Castiel has wanted to punch Gordon very much. The next day in U.S History, Dean can't help it if he just happens to stick his foot in the middle of the aisle as Gordon walks up to sharpen his pencil any more than he can help the loud curse Gordon lets out when he stumbles, or the three sharp raps on the knuckles the teacher gives him for using the lord's name in vain. Gordon says nothing but gives Dean a silent glare which Dean answers with a smile. When they are alone Castiel tells Dean that he shouldn't have done it but his eyes are grateful and Dean doesn't apologize.  
By the time Thursday rolls around Dean is almost painfully anxious to leave campus. He's sitting at dinner with Sam and Ash, who are complaining to Dean and each other about how unfair it is that only seniors are allowed to leave on weekends.  
"It's because they don't think we'll be able to handle the responsibility of our homework if we have actual things to do," Sam complains. "But Dean, you're a senior, and you probably haven't done a single homework assignment all year."  
"Hey," Dean protests, helping himself to more macaroni and cheese. "I'll have you know that I studied for a history test last night, and I'm pretty that sure I got at least a D on it."  
"YOU studied for a test?" says Sam, jaw dropping dramatically. "I gotta say, Dean, this roommate of yours must either be really boring or a really good positive influence if you've resorted to studying for fun. Remind me to congratulate him if I ever finally meet him." He's right, of course, Castiel is completely to thank for the fact that Dean even so much as looked at his U.S History book. The night before the test they spent an hour quizzing each other which is literally more than Dean has studied in his entire high school career. It was painful and Dean complained more than he probably should have but Castiel was so persistent and enthusiastic about the subject as well as Dean's success that he couldn't bring himself to say "fuck this" and walk away like he would whenever Sam would try and get him to study. But it actually felt kind of good knowing some of the answers on the test.  
"Shut up and eat your macaroni," he says.  
Dean doesn't know why Castiel never seems to be in the cafeteria during meals, and he never thinks to ask him. But it really bothers Sam, who for some reason is dying to meet him.  
"So what are your plans for the weekend?" Ash asks Dean conversationally. He sounds a little bit resentful that Dean gets to go off campus and he doesn't, though Dean recognizes that that all might be an act. The kid has a stash of beer in his room and Dean wouldn't put it past him to know exactly how to go off campus without getting caught. The thought makes him uneasy, but hey, what can he do?  
"I haven't really thought about it," Dean says honestly. "What is there to do around here?"  
"There's a mall," Ash says thoughtfully. "A few restaurants, a movie theatre, bowling alley, you know. Nothing to pee your pants over but better than this place."  
"Aw, don't sound so glum," Dean says. "You've got a library here, what more could you nerds want?" Ash and Sam give him identical looks of annoyance and Dean finds himself stuck between wanting to laugh and being extremely disturbed by the fact that out of the hundreds of students at this school, his brother somehow ended up rooming with the one who can almost perfectly emulate the bitchface.

Dean returns that night to an empty dorm and the sound of the shower running. He pulls out his laptop and checks his e-mail for the first time all week. There's nothing, of course. Dean doesn't ever talk to people through e-mail- the only people who even have his address are Sam, John, and a few distant ex-flings who were about as likely to email Dean as they were to spontaneously grow a second head. Still, every now and then, when their dad's away and Dean gets lonely, he checks. Just to see. There was a time when John would forward them things, funny pictures, jokes, amusing chain letters. Sometimes they would even come with a little personal attachment about how much he missed them or couldn't wait to see them again. Now there's nothing. Dean pulls up a game of solitaire.  
He's almost got it beat when Castiel steps out of the shower wrapped in a towel. Dean tries not to make a big deal about it, looks back at the laptop screen with a renewed fascination. They're roommates, he tells himself. They're both straight(ish?) men, and it's okay for them to see each other shirtless or towel-clad or whatever without it being the scandal of the century. And god, Dean really needs to get laid because he is not feeling what he thinks he is feeling right now, and if he is it's because he's lusting after the queen of hearts on the laptop screen for some goddamn reason because he sure as hell knows it's not Castiel his dick is reacting to.  
Castiel doesn't seem perturbed in the least and grabs his clothes off his bed before slipping back into the bathroom to change. Dean takes the opportunity to google the least sexually appealing thing he can think of, which apparently is bunions, and then he feels like he's going to throw up but hey, at least he's in no danger of having a boner.  
When Castiel comes back, he's fully clothed in the same worn blue pajama pants and grey t-shirt he always wears to bed. He drops his towel into the laundry hamper before climbing silently into his bed. That's something Dean has really learned to appreciate about Castiel over the past week that he's lived with him, the guy's quiet. He's capable of conversation, yeah. Actually, given the proper subject he's not bad at it. But he doesn't blab about shit that doesn't mean anything just to fill the silence. Dean thinks if just a few more people in the world shared this trait, things would be a lot better. Maybe it would even help fix the global warming problem or something, what with the reduced CO2 levels and all. But Dean's not a scientist. Mostly he just likes it to be quiet sometimes.  
"So what are your plans for tomorrow?" Dean asks. Castiel stares at the ceiling.  
"Class, homework, reading. The usual," he says, voice monotone.  
"Wait, seriously?" says Dean. He looks at Castiel's face and, yep, he's serious alright. He doesn't even seem upset about the fact that he has no life. He's resigned to it, probably has been for a while. It strikes a chord in Dean, and all of a sudden he feels like it's his duty to get the guy out of the dorm for the weekend.  
"Yes. The novelty of the outside world wears off surprisingly quickly. I am mostly content to remain within the campus."  
"The novelty of the- Jesus Christ, Cas, your perception of the world is totally fucked," Dean says. Castiel doesn't even wince at the use of the lord's name in vain. Some priest he'll be.  
"No, Dean, it isn't. I simply have exhausted all possible pass-times within reasonable walking distance from the school and they no longer amuse me."  
"Well what about the movies?" says Dean. "Those change every week, can't get tired of those." Castiel turns away from him, staring at the wall.  
"I… I have never seen a movie," he says quietly.  
"Wait, like. Never?"  
"That is what I said."  
"Don't get sassy with me. I just. I can't. You've really never seen a movie? How is that even possible? Were you raised by potatoes?" Castiel finally turns his gaze to Dean again and he looks confused.  
"I don't think that potatoes would be able to provide for a child for very long," he says. Dean's mouth twitches but he's too stunned to smile.  
"God, Cas. That's weird. You gotta know that's weird."  
"I am aware that my cultural knowledge is lacking," Castiel says slowly. "The other boys at this school never miss an opportunity to point it out to me."  
"Well I guess it's my duty as your roommate and a normal American consumer to educate you then," Dean says with finality. "I'm taking you to a movie tomorrow."  
"I can't," says Castiel. He rolls onto his back and stares forlornly at the ceiling. "I don't have any money."  
"Don't worry about it," says Dean as he climbs under the covers. They're pleasantly cold against his skin and he nestles in happily. "I've got it covered."  
Normally, Dean would feel weird about spending his dad's money on anyone other than Sam, including himself. Now, he can't wait to do it. His dad's decision to leave his sons for his job had been accompanied by an apologetic increase in the boys' allowances. Dean just wants it gone. It had been a sad attempt to fix something that could never be fixed, and the money is more than burning a hole in Dean's pocket. It’s making him sick.  
Castiel never replies, and eventually Dean falls asleep.

"So explain to me exactly how you have never seen a movie before," Dean says in between bites of his bacon cheeseburger. It's the first really satisfactorily greasy meal Dean's had in what feels like ages. The food at Our Lady of the Stars is actually pretty tasty, but it's way too healthy for Dean. He wipes the grease off his face with a dingy paper napkin while Castiel watches in awe.  
"I don't understand, what about the situation would you like me to clarify?"  
"I mean, you say you've basically lived at that school your whole life, and then you say you've never seen a movie? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to though. I just… you can. If you want." And the weird thing is, Dean really wants to know.  
"Oh," Castiel says, realization dawning on his face. "I was raised by nuns."  
"What."  
"I forget sometimes that there's not a sign on my forehead that says it. It's what everyone here knows me as, 'the kid who was raised by nuns.' Among other things, of course."  
"You seem so normal though. I mean, you're weird, but not raised-by-nuns weird," Dean says, and he immediately regrets it when he sees Castiel's face darken. He picks up his sandwich and picks at it self-consciously. "Cas, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I like that you're weird." He doesn't know why he says it but he knows as soon as he does that it's true. Castiel's strange, foreign behavior oddly enough is one of the reasons why Dean can tolerate his constant presence when living in such close quarters with anyone else (other than Sam) would drive him completely batshit.  
Castiel scrutinizes Dean's face, head tilted, as if he's unsure whether or not Dean is telling the truth. Then he looks down at his plate.  
"They found me in the confession booth one morning, screaming at the top of my lungs. I was two months old, and ever since then I've lived at Our Lady of the Stars. Nuns deny themselves the luxuries most kids take for granted and consequently I never had them either. No television, no movies, no videogames. It never used to bother me because I didn't know what I was missing. I had the nuns, and the bible, and God. For a while that was enough. It wasn't until I was five and I started going to school that I realized how different I was, and how much of the world would always be closed off to me, and how much the other kids resented me for it. Even then I knew I was going to grow up and become a priest, because what other choice was there? What place could there be for me outside of the church when half the time I had no idea what my peers were talking about? I can never be normal." When Castiel stops talking Dean realizes it's the most he's ever heard him say. And as opposite as their lives are, Castiel having never left one place his entire life and Dean having never stayed in one for more than a year, Dean thinks he's never had more in common with another person. He doesn't say that, though. Instead he says,  
"Do you want to be a preist?"  
And Castiel doesn't. Dean can see it in his face and in the way Castiel tells him all about what's expected of him and how this is his calling and how important this is to the nuns without ever really answering the question. Dean just nods and eats his cheeseburger, thinking about all the things Castiel will never get to do. He knows it's none of his business, but Dean's never really been the best at minding his own.

Castiel likes the movie perhaps a little too much. It had been an actually pretty good psychological thriller that makes the audience think at the same time that it offers substantial eye candy of every flavor. It wasn't anything that was going to win any Oscars, but with no basis for comparison, it was the best movie Castiel had ever seen.  
He spends the entire walk back to the school going on and on about theories and symbolism within the film, like an overexcited toddler who also happens to be an English professor. Dean likes movies, and he likes to talk about movies, but he never thought it was possible to think this much into things. It would be annoying if it wasn't so goddamn adorable. Dean just smiles as Castiel jabbers on, occasionally throwing in a word or two. Mostly, he's just thrilled to see Castiel excited about something. Until now he didn't think it possible.  
"It was just like reading a book, except obviously it didn't require as much intellectual stimulus. But in ways it was almost better, strangely," Castiel says, coming down finally from his excited rant.  
"Almost?" says Dean, who never really got into reading.  
"I just can't believe this entire media of art has been around my whole life, unexplored. There is so much I must see. How many are there?"  
"How many movies? God, Cas, thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Most of them basically suck though."  
"How do I watch them?"  
"Well, I can get pretty much anything on my laptop," Dean says, starting to get excited too. "We could start watching them, you know, at night, after homework is done. I'm no film critic but I know what's good and what's not, and the basic, you know, Wizard of Oz, the Godfather, Star Wars, Pulp Fiction. Okay yeah. Yeah, this is happening. Starting tonight."  
They get back to the school just as dinner is being served in the cafeteria. Dean sort of regrets his decision not to swing by that burger joint and grab some greasy nutrition on their way back. But he only has so much money, and while he's certain that John would be more than happy to wire him some more whenever he wants, that's a phone call he really doesn't want to make. Not yet, anyway. When they near the cafeteria though, Castiel slows his pace.  
"I have to go," he says, veering off to the right. "I will see you back at the dorms." Dean nods. He was right about Castiel never eating in the cafeteria. But why? He has this awful image in his mind of Castiel sitting in one of the school bathrooms alone with a tray of food in his lap, like Cady Heron in Mean Girls.  
Mean Girls, that's another one they'd have to watch eventually, though Dean fears that most of the humor would be lost on Castiel. The mystery as to his roommate's whereabouts slips from his mind as she contemplates what more they should watch tonight, and the next night, and the next…

Dean tries to steer away from chick flicks at first. The first week, he shows Castiel the Godfather, which he likes, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which he finds secretly amusing while outwardly scorning the behavior of the characters, and several Tarantino films, which Castiel isn't sure what to think about but he keeps watching them anyway. But by Thursday, Dean can't deny that he's depriving his roommate of some truly classic films by avoiding the ones with less than adequate levels of testosterone. So they watch the Sound of Music, which Dean has always secretly loved, and hey, there's nothing girly about Nazis. He doesn't even think about how much it applies to Castiel's life until the movie is over and his roommate is absolutely silent, the look on his face about 1000 miles away.  
"So… did you like it?" Dean asks cautiously. They're in their usual movie-watching positions—in Castiel's bed, backs against the headboard, with Dean's laptop angled toward them from its position up on the desk. Dean crawls over his roommate to hit the pause button on the laptop, rousing Castiel from his trance.  
"It was very good," he says. "Different from everything else we've watched. I… feel an attachment to the character of Maria. I feel she and I have much in common."  
"How so?" Dean asks, though he's pretty much figured it out.  
"Well… she's a postulant."  
"A what?"  
"She's not yet a nun, but she is to become one, as I am to become a priest. And all she seems able to do is cause trouble. She doesn't mean to, and she wishes to take her holy orders very seriously, but she has… doubts. And then she meets the Von Trapp family and…" Castiel trails off momentarily. "And suddenly her life has a purpose. And it's not within the church." Dean considers this for a while.  
"You don't have to become a priest, Cas," he says. "You shouldn't, if that's not what you want." Dean feels the hypocrisy in the words as he says them and he feels almost guilty for it. Maybe he's not sworn to priesthood, but he's pretty much in the same boat as Castiel, as Maria. His dad's already got a job lined up for him, and Dean can't see a single way out. Only a few months now before he graduates to join the exciting world of travelling sales, whether he wants to or not. And he doesn't. He's tried to tell himself that it doesn't matter, that he'd be just as happy (or unhappy) doing anything else, but now he knows it's a lie. The damned profession ruined his childhood and replaced his father with a distant stranger. But he just can't see himself doing anything about it. "You just need to find your Von Trapp family."  
"Yes," Castiel says. "I suppose I do."

Chapter 4

It's Tuesday afternoon and Dean is studying ferociously in the cafeteria, and that's the first of a few weird things that happen that day.  
He's studying off of Castiel's notes, thanking God for giving Cas not only perfect handwriting but perfect note-taking skills. Dean's actually feeling pretty confident about the test that day in Statistics. And then he remembers that Castiel has Statistics right after lunch. And that it's an open note test.  
Lunch is halfway over by the time Dean realizes that Castiel is going to need his notes. He curses under his breath and throws on his coat before dashing out into the crisp winter afternoon. It's then that he realizes he has absolutely no idea where Castiel eats lunch. Or breakfast or dinner for that matter. And fuck, he's running out of time.  
"In a hurry, are we?" comes a stern voice from behind him. Dean whirls around to find himself face to face with the headmistress.  
"Yeah, I need to find Castiel. Do you know where he eats lunch?" the frigid nun raises an eyebrow inquisitively.  
"I'm afraid I do," she says quietly. "Is it very important? I know he prefers not to be disturbed." Dean is way past finding this information strange.  
"I know he'd want me to disturb him with this. Trust me." Dean considers the fact that he could just give the notes to the headmistress and have her deliver them to Castiel, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he decides not to ask. He wants to see what his roommate has been doing all this time, and why he doesn't wish to be disturbed while he's doing it.  
"Very well then, come with me."  
Dean follows the Headmistress into a plain, somewhat depressing building near the church. He's never been in here before, and it's not until they pass by a group of nuns playing poker in a quaint dining room that he realizes this must be where they live. What the hell is Cas doing eating in here?  
They stop in front of a closed wooden door toward the end of a long hallway. "Your friend is in there," the headmistress says with a nod. And before Dean can ask any of the million questions swarming his brain, she walks away, leaving him alone in the empty hallway. Hesitantly, he opens the door.  
The room on is small and Spartan, containing only a bed, an ancient, no-frills wooden dresser, and a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside. It's here that Castiel sits, his tray of lunch in his lap and a paperback book in his hands. Lying in the bed is one of the palest, skinniest women Dean has ever seen in his life. She's relatively young, maybe in her late thirties, but her skin hangs from her eyes in dark bags. Her long red hair is streaked with grey. She smiles at Dean when he walks in and, even though he's sure he's never seen the sickly woman before in his life, there's something instinctually motherly in the way that she looks at him.  
"Hello there," she says, and her voice is soft yet brittle and it makes Dean hurt. Castiel looks up from his book. His eyes widen when he sees Dean. "I don't think I've ever met you before."  
"No, ma'am. I'm Dean Winchester."  
"Ah, so this is Dean! I've heard so many things about you," the woman says, causing Castiel to turn a deep shade of red.  
"Dean, this is my friend, Sister Anna," Castiel mutters so low that Dean has trouble hearing it.  
"Nice to meet you," says Dean. "Cas, I just came to give these back to you. I figured you'd probably want them for the test next period," he says, pulling the other boy's notes out of his back pocket. Castiel takes them and slips them inside the book he'd been reading.  
"Thank you," he says.  
"Well, I'd better get going. Lunch is calling," Dean says with an awkward thumb-jerk out the door. Sister Anna seems nice but he can't help feeling like he's intruding on something almost intimate. So he walks out of the room with a fond farewell from Sister Anna and a 'see you in Religious Studies' from Castiel, wondering what just happened.  
Dean passes his Stats test, and Castiel aces it, and the two walk out of Religious Studies together in good spirits. But before Dean can ask his friend any questions about Sister Anna, Castiel hurries off with a quiet murmur that he needs to go to the library. And if Dean had suspected before that Castiel was bothered by their encounter that afternoon, well, now he knows it for sure. Now that he thinks about it, Dean realizes that there must be some reason Castiel had never mentioned the nun to him before, despite the fact that he spends three meals a day eating with her. He shakes his head and sets off to find Sam.  
Sam's actually having a harder time with the "no girls within a five mile radius" thing than Dean. It's almost all he talks about. He even makes a few semi-joking remarks about wanting to sneak off campus just to see a female below the age of 30. Dean makes a mental note to keep a close eye on him. They hang out in the freshman common room for a while, watching some mindless game show on TV. It's the kind of thing the brothers used to do all the time when they were living in hotels, and for precisely half an hour Dean feels sort of normal again. When the show is over and Sam goes back to his dorm to study, Dean follows suit, wishing that life were as simple as Deal or No Deal.  
"Hello Dean," Castiel says casually, dropping an armful of books on his bed as he walks into the dorm.  
"Hey, Cas."  
"How were your classes today?"  
"Good. Cas, listen. What's up with Sister Anna? Is that who you're always eating with? What's wrong with her?" He doesn't mean for it to sound so insensitive but it’s too late. Castiel's face darkens and he turns his back on Dean, pouring all his attention into the stack of books on his bed. For a while he doesn't say anything. Dean gets up and walks over to him. "God Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"  
"No," Castiel says, not turning around. His voice is even but his shoulders are uncharacteristically hunched, like he's fighting back tears. "Sister Anna… basically raised me. She's the closest thing I have to a mother." Sensing the pain in his voice, Dean does something he has never done before. He reaches out and places a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder, and Castiel exhales loudly. He doesn't shrug it off. "Whenever I was sad, or there was something I wanted that I couldn't have, or I had questions about God, the other nuns would tell me to read the Bible. That's the only advice they would ever give me, 'Read the Bible, and God will help you.' And I'd read the Bible. I'd read it so many times that I had most of it memorized, but it never told me where my parents were, or why the other kids made fun of me, or how I could get them to stop. But Sister Anna… she gave me advice. She would sit me down and talk to me for hours until I wasn't sad anymore. She loved me. She still loves me, and she's the only person in the world who ever has."  
Dean is struck by this. He wants to tell Castiel that he's wrong, of course someone else loves him, because how could you not? But all that comes out is, "Cas."  
Castiel turns around and the look in his eyes cuts like a knife. Dean's never seen his roommate this emotional before, about anything. At the same time that he feels like shit, Dean is slightly thrilled at how much Castiel is opening up to him. And then he feels like shit again.  
"She… she's dying," says Castiel. "Last year she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She used to be a teacher here, but since her illness she's been on bed rest 24/7. She refuses to go to a hospital for treatment. Sister Anna believes that if this is God's plan then she has no right to interfere with it." He looks angry when he says it, like he thinks this is the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard in his life. Dean has to agree with him. "I've eaten all my meals with her ever since. I think she appreciates it. People do visit her but… it's lonely." Dean just nods, unable to say anything. He realizes that he's standing very close to Castiel, and that his hand is still on the other boy's shoulder, and it has a strange effect on his stomach.  
"Cas I'm so sorry," he whispers.  
"Why?" Castiel looks up, confused. "This is not your doing."  
"No I mean, it makes me sad that this is happening to you. You seem to really care about her a lot."  
"Oh," Castiel says. "I do. Until this year she was my only friend."  
"Until this year I didn't have any friends." Castiel's eyes are focused very intently on Dean's lips, a fact which sends a sensation coursing through Dean that he can neither name nor justify. It scares the hell out of him. So he drops his hand, grabs a towel left hanging over the foot of his bed and all but runs into the bathroom where he takes a shower that's way too cold and tries not to think about anything at all.

It happens all of a sudden, really, and Dean can't fathom why he'd never noticed it before. One day Castiel's just this endearingly weird kid he shares a room with and likes more than he should. Now, out of nowhere, he's several things that confuse Dean completely, to the point where he's sitting in class, trying to hear the nun lecture, trying to read the words on the board, but none of his senses seem to extend past the disheveled head of black hair two rows ahead of him.  
Nothing about Castiel's appearance has changed. Not really. He's got the same impossible blue eyes fringed permanently with tiny crinkles around the edges. His face and body are shaped like they've always been, and while Dean's never found Castiel unattractive, and while yeah, he would have admitted before that the guy isn't bad looking, that's about as far as he would have gone in assessing his roommate's sexual appeal. Now Dean finds himself getting flustered whenever Castiel walks into a room, goes through entire study sessions without absorbing a single speck of information because they're just so close. He sits through movies that he loves, feeling distinctly the inches of distance between their bodies, wanting to close it but not knowing what would happen after that. Knowing this is how it's going to stay. Because he is not gay, and neither is Castiel, and it would be ridiculous to act on this. It's probably just all the not having sex getting to him. No girls around, Dean's body is trying its best to improvise. But damn if it didn't find a good substitute.  
Dean's starting to notice other things, too. Like how Castiel never looks at anyone else the way he looks at Dean, and how more and more frequently he's been coming back to the dorm out of breath at the end of the day, as if he'd been running to get there. The dominantly pessimistic side of Dean's brain attributes these things to just about anything else it can come up with- maybe it's getting colder outside, maybe Dean has a spot of particularly interesting acne on his face. The other side of his brain, however, is starting to get ideas. And as much as he wants them to go away, Dean can't help but entertain them.  
Sam's picking up on something, too, which more than anything solidifies this vague phenomenon as an actual thing in Dean's mind. And while he waves off Sam's suspicions, tells him that it's just lack of sleep that's distracting Dean, both of them know that it's a lie. But Sam leaves it, and Dean is grateful, and things get better eventually. Dean is able to pay attention to what Castiel is saying, as long as he doesn't look too hard at his lips. He can take adequate notes in class if he keeps his eyes on the page in front of him.  
And sometimes, if Dean tries really hard, he can even pretend that he's completely straight. As long as Castiel's not in the room.  
They always start a movie on opposite sides of the bed, with feet of space between them. By the time it's halfway over, they're pressed against each other tight, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, leg to leg, and Dean never has any idea how it happens. At this point Dean's mind starts to wander. He pictures himself leaning into a kiss he'll never get, Castiel's soft gasp of surprise he'll never hear. When Dean's in a bad mood the imagined kiss ends there. The imagined Castiel pushes him away, angry and disgusted. Other times, he doesn't, and by the time the credits roll and the real Castiel wants to talk, Dean can't explain to him why he can't remember any of the key plot points of the movie they just watched.  
If it were anyone else, Dean would have made a move already. He's not used to sexual frustration. He's used to getting sex when he wants it, and he doesn't think he's ever really wanted it this bad before. But he can't and it has little to do with the fact that Castiel's a boy, and everything to do with the fact that for once in his life, Dean is terrified he'll be rejected. So he goes on living as he has for the past couple of weeks since he's arrived at Our Lady of the Stars only ten times more horny and a shitload more happy. And surprisingly, it's nice.

Chapter 5

"I need your help sneaking out of the school," Dean says urgently as he enters the dorm.  
"Hello. How was dinner?" Castiel doesn’t even look up from his book.  
"I'm serious, Cas," says Dean. He sets his stuff down on the bed and grabs Castiel's book out of hands. His roommate's face twitches with irritation as Dean shuts the book and sets it down on the night stand.  
"Dean, what the Hell is going on?"  
"Sam snuck out to a party some college kid is throwing in town. I got the address from one of his classmates but no one would tell me how to sneak out. I think they were afraid I'd tell you and you’d tell the nuns and then they'd be in trouble." Dean can't really blame the kids for thinking of Castiel as a teacher's pet. The guy was raised by nuns.  
Castiel sighs and says, "I know a way out that's pretty hidden, we shouldn't get caught."  
The way out of the school turns out to be a crouching-teenage-boy-sized gap in the bottom of the massive iron gate that surrounds the school, just behind the church. Once Dean and Castiel make it out into the surrounding woods, they both breathe a little easier. Even under the circumstances, Dean takes a moment to relish the freedom. For a while, the only sound is the crunch of their boots through the snow. Finally, Dean says, "So how did you even know about that hole in the gate? I didn't think you broke rules. Like ever."  
"Generally, no. I have snuck out once or twice to visit the public library," Castiel admits guiltily.  
"Well aren't you just a professional badass. Way to stick it to the man, Cas. Wait, isn't there a library on campus? Why sneak out?"  
"The campus library's fiction section is limited. One can only read Anne of Green Gables so many times before he starts to think that maybe his education is being restricted by the moral and religious views of his surroundings." Finally, they've made it out of the woods and onto the sidewalk in front of campus. The glow of the streetlights illuminates flakes of snow as they drift downward peacefully. Castiel hesitates before continuing. "I used to sneak out first thing in the morning, as soon as the library was open, and just run through grabbing as many books as I could carry without even looking at them. One time I took too long and came back right as Sister Anna was coming out of the church. She caught me red-handed, crawling under the fence, and if it had been any of the other nuns I would have been in huge trouble. But Sister Anna wasn't even angry. She seemed… amused. This was when I was about twelve I think. After that Sister Anna started smuggling books in for me whenever she would leave the school. She never told anyone."  
Dean can't say anything. He reaches down and gives Castiel's icy hand a comforting squeeze. Castiel squeezes back, and he doesn't let go until they arrive at the party.

Once at the party it becomes immediately clear that the whole "get Sam and get out" plan sounded a lot easier back at the dorm. The place is packed, crawling with inebriated teens of all ages and social groups and genders. At first, Dean is distracted by the number of girls around him. But it soon wears off, and he turns to Castiel to discuss their next move. He can't help but laugh out loud when he does. Cas is bewildered completely by his surroundings. His eyes are wide and his brows knit together in concern.  
"Cas," Dean laughs. "The look on your face."  
"Sorry," says Castiel, and he struggles to compose himself.  
"Okay, you stay here, wide-eyes, and try not to look so constipated. Ask around, see if anyone's seen a tiny moose child. I'll go look through the rest of the house."  
So they split up, Dean wandering through the craziest party he's ever been to (which is saying something) and trying hard not to stop and have a drink because he really needs to be sober if he wants to find Sam. But twenty minutes later, when he's pushed and elbowed his way through every unlocked room in the house and still no little brother, Dean starts to lose hope. Half-heartedly assuring himself that his brother's probably just on his way back to the dorms now, he heads back to the living room to meet up with Castiel.  
Dean notices two things once back in the living room. The first: there's a guy talking to Castiel. A good-looking one, with pale skin and dark, sunken eyes. The boy is standing in a way that suggests that they're probably not discussing sports or the weather. In fact, he's standing almost possessively over Castiel, arm resting against the wall by his head, too close to the other boy for Dean to not internally begin to lose his shit.  
The second thing Dean notices is that Castiel is smiling, and it's a real smile, the one Dean thought only he got to see. Dean doesn't know who this boy is, but suddenly all he wants is to be back in the dorm with Cas and a movie on his laptop and only skin between them instead of some cocky, attractive, probably douchebag.  
"Any luck with Sam?" Dean asks, standing territorially close to Castiel and wondering if he'll notice. Probably Douchebag sure seems to, and he backs off a step or two with an amused smile at the intrusion.  
"None," Castiel replies. Then he remembers his manners and makes an almost robotic introduction, during which Dean and the other boy-who, as it turns out, is named Crowley- glare at each other politely.  
"I'm off to the loo," Crowley says with a grin, sensing the tension and apparently loving it. "Be right back." He walks away with an unsavory glance at Castiel's lower body. Dean's blood boils.  
"Okay, whatever, we're not going to find Sam," Dean grumbles as soon as Crowley is out of earshot. "Let's just leave and hope he doesn't get himself expelled." He tugs lightly on his roommate's arm, but the guy won't budge.  
"I really think we should look for him a little longer," he says.  
"Cas, come on, let's just go. I don't like that Crowley guy either. He freaks me out."  
"He's just English." Castiel is completely clueless.  
"No, he's English and a dick and he wants to sleep with you."  
"He didn't look tired to me."  
"Meaning he wants to fuck you," Dean says, now exasperated, and not knowing how to put it in any simpler terms. Castiel seems taken aback.  
"You're wrong, Dean."  
"Fine, you stay," Dean’s struggling to control his frustration but it's hard work. "I'm going back to the dorm." He thinks he hears Castiel call "Dean, wait!" but Cas doesn't go after him and Dean doesn't stop.

Dean's been home for not thirty minutes when he hears the dorm room door creak open. At that moment he realizes how much he's grown to love the sound. At first he had been annoyed by it- it made it impossible to leave the room during the middle of the night for any reason without waking Castiel up. But now the noise just means that he's not alone. It means Castiel is home, and it pleases him more than it has any right to.  
Dean doesn't roll over from where he's curled into a ball on his bed.  
"You awake?" Castiel whispers. Then there's the sound of the door creaking closed behind him, the rustle of clothes as he undresses, the sliding sound of his dresser drawer opening. Dean doesn't respond. "I found Sam. I brought him back to his room. He was pretty intoxicated but he seemed okay." More rustling as Cas pulls on pajamas, the heave of his mattress as he sits down on the bed. "Dean I know you're awake. Your breathing is too rapid. And you never sleep on your side, either." Defeated, Dean sighs and rolls over.  
"Thanks for bringing Sam back, man," he says. "And Cas, listen, what happened at the party, I… just forget about it please. I had no reason to act like that." And it's a lie, and the reason he had was jealousy. But he can't say that.  
"Actually, you were right. About that boy. His intentions were not the purest. I was actually flattered, no one has ever been sexually interested in me." Dean could laugh at how incorrect that statement is. "But then he took things too far and… I fought him."  
" He what?" Dean jumps out of bed, goes to where Cas is perched at the end of his own and sits down next to him. Almost violently, he grips the other boy's face and twists his head this way and that, inspecting him for damage.  
"Are you okay? I swear to God if that son of a bitch hurt you I'll"  
"No, Dean," Castiel says soothingly. "He didn't hurt me." He's looking up at Dean through half-lidded eyes. His cracked mouth is twisted into a small affectionate smile, like Dean's concern for him is the most wonderful thing he's ever experienced.  
There are times when Dean has doubts about the sexual tension between them, whether it's real and not all in Dean's head. This is not one of those times. Dean drops his hands to his lap.  
"I punched him in the face. His nose bled profusely," Castiel says. It takes Dean a few seconds to remember what they're talking about.  
"You… why?"  
"He was saying terrible things about you Dean. I didn't even mean to punch him. It just happened. I do not regret it."  
It's the visual of Castiel punching a guy in the face for him that sends Dean over the edge. He grabs Castiel's face and kisses him hard, heart hammering in his chest because oh my God this is actually happening. Castiel doesn't pull away. He kisses Dean back just as forcefully, parting his lips with a soft exhale.  
"You don't seem surprised," Dean mumbles, breathless, against his lips. From where he's sitting, forehead pressed to Castiel's, he thinks there's nothing in the world more beautiful than his eyes. And his lips. And his jaw. And… fuck.  
"Why would I be?" Castiel asks, voice low and crackling. "Isn't this what people do when they like each other?" The way he says it sparks something in Dean, and he thinks that Castiel is the only person alive who can say something so innocent so seductively without even meaning to. So he kisses him again, feeling it in every part of his body. Cas kisses him back with something that, if Dean didn't know any better, he would have mistaken for experience. Hands roam and tongues prod and breath comes hard and shallow and if Dean had had a thousand fantasies about kissing Castiel he would never have imagined it would be like this.  
Before long he's pushed the other boy back on the bed and is making short work of his pajama shirt. But that's about as far as things go. Because every time Dean pulls away to admire Castiel's lithe torso he feels an inexplicable pang of guilt. Every time Cas looks up at him, unshaded lust in his holy-water blue eyes, Dean feels like he's defiling something sacred. And even though he wants nothing more than to fuck Castiel so hard that they give their floor-mates something to really talk about, Dean does something he's never done before. He resists. He can't tell whether Cas is disappointed or relieved, but he does it. He softens his kisses, keeps his hands above the hips, and tries to say with silent lips what his voice can't put into words. After a while, when kissing has become too much and not enough all at once, Dean pulls away. He places one last kiss on Cas's forehead, soft and lingering, and then returns to his own bed where eventually he drifts off to sleep in the silent calm that's taken over the room, the happiest he's been in years.

Chapter 6

The moment Dean's eyes flick open, the first thought he has is that he wishes he didn't have to deal with anything. Castiel's already gone to breakfast so he lays in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling and wondering when his life became so goddamn complicated.  
The first thing he has to deal with is Sam. Sam fucked up last night, and now Dean has to confront him about it. He has to punish him somehow, and he doesn't want to, and everything is stupid. He knows that he should call John. It shouldn't be up to him, the big brother, to punish Sam. But he also knows that if he calls John, there's a very good chance that their dad will just take them out of the school entirely.  
And that brings Dean to his next most pressing concern, Castiel. Part of Dean's mind can't wrap itself around the idea that last night actually happened at all. The memory is too perfect, too surreal. Things like this don't just happen to Dean. But it did happen, and Dean can't stop replaying it over and over again in his mind, the way Castiel's lips felt against his, the way he looked at Dean during those brief moments of separation, like Dean was the entire world.  
He sighs and gets out of bed.  
Dean sets his tray down with a thud on the cafeteria table later that morning. Sam doesn't look up from his cereal, hair shading his eyes from the glare of his older brother. Dean still hasn't worked out what to say, so he doesn't say anything, choosing instead to cut his pancakes furiously into manageable, bite-sized pieces. Ash isn't at the table, and Dean is really happy about that. You wouldn't guess, though, from the way he's cutting his pancakes. Sam's the one to break the silence.  
"Dean, I fucked up," he says. He looks up, giving his brother the wounded puppy face. Dean really hates that face.  
"Yeah, Sam, You did," he says. "You could have gotten caught! You could have been expelled! You're smarter than that, Sam. I know you are."  
"I thought you hated this school," Sam says. "I thought you wanted to leave."  
"Stop making this about me. The point is, you broke the rules. You broke the law. Your roommate is clearly a bad influence on you." Dean's heart clenches as the words come out, realizing the implications of what he's saying. He can't in good conscience let Sam keep rooming with Ash. Which means, more likely than not, that he can't keep rooming with Castiel. And ah, there it is. The catch in the only relationship Dean has ever been able to picture himself in for the long run.  
Sam looks down at his food again.  
"I won't tell dad," Dean says. "I don't think he has to know, not this time. But I can't let you keep living with Ash. I'm moving in with you ASAP. I'm going to go talk to the counselor."  
"Dean, wait," Sam calls as Dean gets up from the table. Dean pauses. "Just… what are you going to tell them? Is Ash going to be in trouble?" And Dean can't think of a good answer for that, so he walks away.

Turns out, Dean doesn't even need to tell his counselor about the problem with Ash. As soon as he walks into the woman's office she says, "You must be here about your brother's roommate situation." She has a comfy southern twang that Dean has always thought feels a little like home, a stern but understanding face, and frankly, she looks ridiculously out of place wearing a habit.  
"Uh, yeah," Dean says, shaken. "I'm Dean."  
"Sit down, Dean," sister Ellen says, beckoning toward a chair across from her desk. Dean complies. "So you must know about Ash's withdrawal from school then," she says. Dean frowns, confused. "His parents came and picked him up this morning, said he was moving on to 'better things.' Whatever that means. So now your brother needs a new roommate. I'm assuming you'd like to apply for the job." It takes a while for all this to sink in. Ash left voluntarily? Did he know that Dean was going to rat him out? Was he just trying to avoid getting Sam in trouble? Whatever the case, Dean is grateful for it.  
"Um. Yes. If you can do that, that would be… Sam and I have been through a lot together and I think it's best if I…"  
"Keep an eye on him?" Sister Ellen offers with a small smile, and Dean wonders if maybe she doesn't know more about the situation than she's letting on. He nods.  
"I think we can arrange that," she says, pulling some papers in front of her. "Who is your current roommate? Ah, Castiel. Good kid."  
"Yeah," Dean says, something catching in his throat. God damn it, he's not fucking crying over this. He's still going to be living in the same building as Cas. He'll still be able to see him every day. But somehow, Dean knows it's not the physical separation that's getting to him as much as what it could mean to Castiel. Dean moves out and in with his brother the morning after kissing Castiel? After all the times Castiel's roommates have moved out simply because they thought he was gay? It's not gonna look good, and Dean's not sure he can adequately explain to his roommate how much it's definitely not about him at all, how much he would love for them to keep living together. "Look, Sister Ellen. There isn't… is there any possible way that the three of us can all room together?" Sister Ellen raises an eyebrow.  
"Why would you wanna do that?"  
"Well," Fuck. How is he going to explain this without making it sound as gay as it is. "Castiel is different. Weird. But not in a bad way. But the other kids think so, and I'm the only one who… Look. Castiel has had some pretty shitty—oops, sorry, crap—bad things happen to him in the past. He doesn't really have the best luck with roommates. I'd hate to see him get stuck with another one like the ones he's had in the past." Sister Ellen smiles.  
"You really care about this kid, don't you?" Dean is pretty sure he's blushing. "Look, I can't put all three of you in one room. Not enough space, it's a fire hazard. But when you got here, Castiel was living in his own dorm for the exact reason you just described to me. I'm aware of the situation, and as long as we don't get any new seniors between now and the end of the year, I won't put anyone else in his room. That sound like a deal?" Dean nods.  
"Yeah," he says, starting to like Sister Ellen. "Thank you."  
"No problem. Now, let's get you moved in."

"Cas, we need to talk," Dean begins as he walks into his dorm room later that night. Cas is sitting at his desk poring over some book or another. Upon closer inspection Dean is slightly surprised and disturbed to find that it's a Bible, though he supposes it shouldn't be so surprising. He keeps forgetting, between all this lusting and watching movies together in compromising positions and going to parties and studying together and eating hamburgers and talking and kissing that Castiel is still sort of promised to the priesthood. It's easy to forget.  
Castiel closes his Bible.  
"About last night?" he asks, eyes worried.  
"Sort of. No. Yes. God I-" Dean struggles. "It has nothing to do with you. It's about Sam."  
"You want to move back in with him," Castiel says, as if it were the obvious course of action.  
"Yeah," Dean says guiltily. He perches on the edge of the desk next to his roommate. "Listen, I don't want you to think this has anything to do with… us." It's weird saying the word, but good. It makes "us" feel real. It's what Dean needs. Castiel's eyes engulf him in blue and Dean thinks briefly that if he has a home, this is it.  
"It's just Sam," he says. "I'm worried about him. I'm afraid of where he's headed if I don't watch him, you know. Not all the time obviously. I just don't want him to end up like… well, like me."  
Castiel's brow crinkles.  
"Why?" he asks, confused. "You're perfect." Dean's heart jumps into his throat and becomes stubbornly lodged there. Though the words are far from the truth, Dean can tell that the other boy really, completely means them, and it makes him feel just a little less shitty about himself.  
"No, I'm really not. I'm completely fucked up on so many levels you can't even… anyway, the point is, I'm moving in with Sam as soon as possible. But I swear to god it's not because I, not because you, we… fuck, Cas."  
He grabs Castiel by the shirt collar and pulls his lips to his own, kissing hungrily. He wants this, wants him, and wants to make sure that, if nothing else, Cas knows that. And he seems to.

At first, things are pretty bad between Sam and Dean. Sam is pissed because his best friend is gone and it's easier to blame Dean than himself. Dean's pissed because, though he hasn't mentioned it to Sam, he misses Castiel, and it's easier to blame Sam than himself for that, too. They spend the first two days together mutually sulking. There's a lot of elbowing for space in the freshman dorm, completely different from the fleeting way in which Dean and Cas would brush against each other in the small space. They bicker over stupid things and don't mention important ones. Meals are boring and stressful and mostly silent. But day by day, things get better.  
They start to laugh again, and tease each other again, and by the end of the first three days they're almost back to how they used to be. Sam still texts Ash every day, and slowly he starts to make new friends. And on Friday night, once things aren't so tense anymore, Dean has Castiel over to his new dorm where he officially meets Sam for the first time. They've seen each other in the hallway in passing, and Dean has introduced them, but they've never really gotten the chance to know each other.  
They end up getting along in a way that's easy and uncomplicated. Sam is intrigued by Castiel, his upbringing, and the fact that he's the only person Sam knows who knows less than him about pop culture and more than him about almost everything else. Dean can tell that his brother sort of resents him for it at the same time that he respects him. But all of that is forgotten when they go off on an extremely in-depth discussion about Ayn Rand, which Dean thinks sounds more like an infection than the name of a person. When he voices this opinion Sam and Castiel simultaneously break down into a fit of giggles for some reason, leaving Dean to raise an eyebrow and mutter, "nerds."  
The three of them watch Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone together. Sam was always really big on Harry Potter. Dean's always just thought Hermione is hot. Not in the Sorcerer's Stone, obviously but… at least by the time Goblet of Fire rolls around. When the end credits roll, Sam's fast asleep in his bed, and Dean and Castiel have resumed their normal positions, too close, side by side.  
"You tired?" Dean asks. Castiel shakes his head. "Me neither. Well I'd hate to wake Sam."  
"Go to my room? We can… watch another movie. I'd quite like to know who wins the house cup next year."  
"Wouldn't we all." Eagerly, Dean pulls Castiel out of bed and leads him out of the room. His heart hammers in his chest the whole way up to the senior floor of the dorms. It's the first time he and Castiel have been alone since Dean moved out about a week ago and he doesn't really know what's going to happen, what to expect. But he knows that whatever it is, it won't involve much Harry Potter because Dean didn't even bring his laptop with him and Castiel didn't remind him.  
As soon as they're in Castiel's dorm and the door is closed behind them, Cas takes Dean completely by surprise by kissing him. It's soft, and chaste, and nice. It's also the first time Castiel has taken the initiative in making the first move, and it makes Dean wish he didn't have all these reservations when it comes to the other boy. But it's worth it, being here, like this, with him. The tension between them is so strong that Dean almost thinks it was worth it to move in with Sam, just for this.  
"What was that for?" Dean murmurs against Castiel's lips. Cas smiles wistfully and says, "Don't ask stupid questions." He presses his lips to Dean's temple, his earlobe, his neck before leading him to the bed. Dean's soft sigh is masked by the rustle of fabrics as Castiel climbs on top of him. Slowly, subconsciously, Dean finds himself sliding down the headboard, sinking into the pillow. His lips find Castiel's again. Desperately, he pulls the other boy to him, one hand on Castiel's neck and the other pressed tight against his back. He traces patterns in the fabric of his shirt before snaking a hand underneath, loving the feel of goosebumps beneath his fingertips.  
"Damn it, Cas," he breathes, because while he still feels guilty about the thought of "defiling" the future priest, Castiel is making it, both literally and figuratively, really fucking hard for him. "You know," Dean gasps as Castiel sucks hard at his neck, and yeah, that's gonna leave a mark. "I'm pretty sure priests can't do shit like this." Castiel pulls away from Dean's neck and slowly raises his darkened blue eyes to meet his. The look on his face freezes Dean's breath in his throat.  
Cas is biting his bottom lip, as if trying to decide whether he wants to say what he's thinking or just start ripping off Dean's clothes.  
"I think," Castiel says, running a finger absently across Dean's collarbone. "I am starting to reconsider that particular career choice. But I may need further convincing."  
If Castiel could have said or done anything more perfect at that moment, Dean can't think of it. He's so thrilled and relieved and turned on that he can't even think of anything sexy to say in response. So he just says, "Cas," and crashes their mouths together, slipping his tongue into the other boy's mouth and hoping that somehow this never has to end.  
And all of a sudden, they're no longer hormonal playful teenagers, but two separate entities that need desperately to be one, and they can't get close enough, not ever.  
Dean hooks a leg over Castiel's and reverses their positions, gently but forcefully pressing him into the mattress with every part of him. Their hips collide and Castiel gasps into Dean's mouth. Almost instinctually, he grinds his pelvis against Dean's, slow and hard, and with a groan Dean slips his hand just below the waistline of Castiel's pants. He hesitates before continuing, his hand stills and he pulls away from Castiel's mouth to look him in the eyes.  
"Yes," Castiel says, breathless, answering the question Dean never could have asked.  
And that's all he needs.  
He slides his hand down Castiel's pants, trailing a finger down the bulge of his underwear. Castiel gasps and thrusts up into Dean's hand, throwing his head back in a silent moan. Dean can't help but rut his hips down against his own hand, pressing it tighter against Castiel.  
Dean manages to remove Castiel's pants as the other boy works on Dean's own and then they're free, Cas wrapping his legs around Dean's waist eagerly, grinding their dicks together with a perfect friction that makes Dean's breath hitch. He wraps a hand around Castiel's cock and slowly starts jerking him off, his knuckles rubbing against his own erection with every stroke.  
And how ironic that Dean's never believed in God more than at this moment, as he's quite literally pulling a servant of the church away from heaven. But as far as Dean is concerned, this is heaven, and God knows it, and he would want this for them if he gave a shit at all, because what else is there?  
He kisses Cas on the lips, slow at first, in rhythm with the strokes of his hand. But when Castiel grabs hold of Dean's cock and starts mimicking his movements, Dean has to bury his face in the crook of his ex-roommate's neck to muffle his moan.  
Before long, Dean knows he's getting close, and if Castiel's complete loss of rhythm is any indication, so is he. The last 30 seconds or so are fast and frantic, Dean sinking his teeth into Castiel's shoulder and Castiel gripping and pulling Dean's hair almost painfully hard.  
When Castiel comes, Dean is certain the whole floor knows it. He throws his head back with a groan that shakes Dean's entire core until he's coming too at the sound of it, mouth hanging open in a silent scream against the other boy's neck.  
They collapse against each other, and Dean can't help but think it's a little unfair that Castiel's first time having sex is also the best Dean can recall having ever. They lay together in silence, the only sound in the room their labored breathing.  
"So," Dean finally says, head resting against the other boy's chest. "Was I able to convince you?"  
Cas chuckles, runs his fingers softly through Dean's hair.  
"I thought I told you," he says. "Don't ask stupid questions."

Chapter 7

Dean wakes up Saturday morning tangled up in Castiel. It's weird because usually by the time Dean is conscious in the morning, Castiel is already gone. He's one of those early birds that Dean simultaneously admires and can't fathom the existence of. After a look at the clock tells Dean that it's almost noon, he has to wonder whether Castiel isn't just sleeping in for his benefit. He decides that that is probably the case, and he pulls Cas even closer with a contented sigh, trying not to think about how girly this is.  
"Good morning," Castiel grunts. "Or should I say afternoon?"  
"Nope, still morning," Dean says, grinning into the back of Castiel's neck. "How long have you been awake?"  
"A while." They lay there for a little longer, savoring the sunlight and the feel of bare skin on bare skin. It's pleasant and easy and not sexual, though it could easily take a turn in that direction. But before either of them can decide they want it to, Dean jumps out of bed, cursing loudly.  
"What is it?" Castiel asks, panicked, as Dean runs around the room scooping up his garments of clothing that have somehow been distributed fucking everywhere.  
"Sam, I never told him I was leaving. What if he woke up and I wasn't there? What if he freaked out? What if he snuck out? Shit," he says, pulling on the pair of boxers he had found under the bed, not bothering to give much thought as to whether they were his or not.  
"Dean, I'm sure Sam is fine."  
"You're probably right. Still, I should get back ASAP." Castiel nods.  
"And I should go see Sister Anna for… lunch, I suppose. I missed breakfast. For the first time in, well, ever. I hope she wasn't too upset." Fully clothed, Dean walks over to where Castiel is sitting in bed and gives him a lingering kiss on the forehead.  
"She's a strong woman," Dean assures him. "See you later, Cas."  
"Goodbye, Dean," he replies softly, and as Dean pulls away Castiel is gazing at him so intensely that Dean feels naked all over again, his messy hair poking out at all angles in a way that should look ridiculous but is actually sexy as hell. With another short kiss and what small amount of self-restraint he has left, Dean leaves.

Sam is lying in bed playing his DS when Dean gets back. The older brother gives a silent sigh of relief, then goes over to ruffle his brother's too-long hair. He can't help himself.  
Sam pouts.  
"Where were you?" he asks. It's merely curious and not at all accusatory. Dean keeps counting his blessings.  
"Slept over with Cas," Dean explains. He goes into the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth because he seriously has the worst morning breath ever and is surprised Castiel managed to kiss him this morning without throwing up.  
He wants this conversation to be over but the kid won't give it up.  
"Why?" the younger Winchester calls through the open bathroom door. Dean spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink as he contemplates his answer.  
"We wanted to watch another movie but you were asleep. We didn't wanna wake you."  
"Uh huh," Sam sounds unconvinced. "That why you left your laptop here?"  
Shit.  
"Yeah, well, by the time I realized I didn't have my laptop we were already on the senior floor and we didn't really feel like going back and getting it because of all the stairs and it's really all the school's fault for not having a goddamn elevator."  
"Dean when did you get so bad at lying?" Sam says as Dean walks back into the room. He's stopped playing his DS and is now staring hard at Dean's face like he's trying to figure something out. Comprehension spreads across his face and Dean's stomach clenches. He figures it's about time to tell Sam about Castiel anyway, but his heart won't stop pounding in his chest.  
"You snuck off campus, didn't you? My friend Gabriel kept talking about this party last night. You two went, didn't you? I can't believe what a hypocrite-"  
"Sam, we didn't sneak out," Dean assures him sincerely. Sam merely looks confused.  
"Then what… there are only two things you would lie to me about, Dean. Sex and law-breaking. So unless you and Castiel are sleeping together…"  
The look on Dean's face must tell all because Sam immediately stops talking and his jaw drops.  
"No way."  
"Sam,"  
"You and-"  
"Sam shut up."  
"You're having… you're,"  
"Still shut up," Dean says, eyes fixated on the carpet. Sam doesn't say anything after that and when Dean looks up his brother has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. "You know if you don't stop your face might freeze like that," Dean says. Sam ignores him.  
"Wow," he says, smile still intact. "So how long have you-"  
"Hey, are you hungry?" Dean cuts him off abruptly. "'Cause I'm feeling some lunch right about now. Let's go get lunch."  
Sam doesn't talk any more about Castiel as the brothers eat their lunches. Dean does notice, however, that every single member of the senior class avoids him like the plague on their way to the cafeteria. He also notices that, once there, the entire senior class is glaring at him in absolute hatred over their grilled cheese sandwiches. It's different from when they laughed at him for being "gay." That had been a running joke and, even though it had been meant to hurt, they never really ever thought that he was. Now they know it, they'd heard definitive proof of it in the small hours of the morning through the paper-thin walls of the senior floor. And they hate him for it, are disgusted by it. And if the way they drop their eyes the second Dean looks up at them is any indication, they think it's contagious.  
Only Gordon isn't afraid to look Dean in the eye. When he walks by the table occupied by Sam and Dean, he glares at Dean with revulsion so intense that it sends shivers down his spine and he has to look away.  
Dean tries not to let it bother him. He's never cared before what anyone's thought of him. He holds his head high and tries hard to be proud of his newfound identity as not-totally-straight or whatever the hell, but it's hard when he knows his reputation will inevitably rub off on his little brother. Sam doesn't seem bothered by it though. He eats his lunch happily and quietly, stopping every now and then to look up at Dean and grin until the older brother punches him lightly on the shoulder.

He and Castiel don't go see a movie that night. Instead they sit in Castiel's dorm and watch Brokeback Mountain on Dean's laptop. Dean had first watched the movie begrudgingly with one of the girls he'd dated briefly. When the movie was over he'd acted like it grossed him out and that he hated it, but secretly he'd been holding back tears at the end.  
This time, when the movie ends, he leans over to kiss Castiel only to find that the other boy is staring rigidly at the screen as the credits roll.  
"Cas? You okay?" Dean asks, placing a gentle hand on the other boy's knee.  
"Why did you show me this movie?" Castiel replies, shaken.  
"You didn't like it?"  
"I don't understand why it had to end like that. Couldn't they have found a way to be happy together? And… are there actually people who would kill someone for being gay like that? They were just in love, Ennis and Jack, they didn't do anything wrong. Why would anyone kill someone for that?"  
"Cas, calm down, it's just a movie."  
"But it's not though. That actually happens, doesn't it. You've seen the way the other boys look at us. They actually hate us, Dean. They're disgusted. What if they try to hurt us?"  
Dean grips Castiel's shoulders tight and makes sure he looks him straight in the eye before speaking again.  
"Listen to me. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, you got that? I'll kick anyone's ass who tries. No one's gonna hurt me either. I've got too much to live for. Plus, this isn't the 1960's. Gordon and them might be homophobic shit heads but I don't think even they would murder anyone. They're way too stupid to get away with it." Castiel seems to loosen up after that. He smiles weakly and lets Dean kiss him breathless.

"So Castiel, he's still planning on being a priest, then? Sam asks, late Sunday night, when he and Dean are laying silent in bed and waiting for sleep to catch them. The subject comes out of nowhere, and Dean realizes he doesn't know exactly how to answer.  
"I'm not sure anymore," he says truthfully, not wanting to give away too much. "He was so sure, when I first met him, and now…" Dean trails off and Sam waits for him to continue. "I could never really picture it, Cas as a priest. But now I definitely can't. And he said he might be reconsidering. I don't know. Why are you asking, anyway?"  
"Just wondering how you feel about the situation."  
"How I feel about it?" Dean asks, confused. "What makes you think I give a rat's ass whether he becomes a priest or not?"  
Dean can practically hear the smug smile in his brother's voice as he says, "Oh, nothing. Just an impression I've gotten."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"You care about him. Like a lot. It's not just sex for you this time, is it?"  
"Sammy go the fuck to sleep," Dean says, throwing a pillow at his brother's head. Sam laughs but doesn't say anything else on the subject. He doesn't need to.

Dean and Castiel have been studying in the library for nearly three hours. It definitely breaks Dean's record for Most Time Spent in a Library Ever, but that might have more to do with the fact that he and Cas have been playing footsie under the table than Dean would care to admit.  
Dean almost doesn't believe it when his cell phone rings and John's name appears on the screen. He answers with a wary, "Hello?" knowing immediately that something must be up.  
"Dean?" His dad sounds tired.  
"The one and only."  
"How ya doin, son?"  
Dean huffs into the phone, annoyed.  
"Listen dad, what do you want? You don't call for two months and now you dial me up on a Tuesday afternoon to ask how I'm doing? Just cut to the chase."  
"Okay, fine," John says, hurt and obviously in no mood to argue. Dean almost feels bad. Almost. "I'm passing through the area and thought maybe you and Sam would like to have dinner, go see a movie. Wednesday night. I have some exciting news to share with you, Dean." That catches Dean off-guard. Dinner and a movie? Their dad values family bonding time about as much as he values trimming his toenails.  
"Uh, sounds good, I guess. Hey dad?"  
"Still here."  
"How sure are you? You know, that you're coming? Because I need to know if I should bother to tell Sammy." There's a deep sigh from the other end.  
"Dean, could you please not do this right now? I'm coming, alright? For sure. I'll see you tomorrow night."  
Dean snaps the phone shut and slams it down on the table just in time for a nun to come and kick him out of the library for talking on it.  
"What was that about?" Castiel asks him as the two leave the library together. It's cloudy outside, and the snow is melted, and everything is dull and wet.  
"My dad," Dean says, kicking a pile of slush with the toe of his boot. "He's coming to visit tomorrow I guess. And he's taking me and Sam out to dinner and a movie?"  
"What movie?" Cas asks, genuinely interested.  
"Jesus, Castiel I don't know what- that is totally not even the point right now. My dad dumps us off at this holy shit hole and then practically disappears off the face of the planet only to come back two months later expecting everything to be all fine and dandy? Something's up, Cas. I don't like it."  
"You think everything is a conspiracy," Castiel says fondly. He briefly squeezes Dean's icy hand with his own. When he drops it, it's too soon, but they're walking through a crowded patio and Dean really can't blame him for not wanting to cause any more talk. "Is it that hard to believe that your father might actually want to spend time with you?"  
"Yes," Dean says matter-of-factly. Then they drop the subject, and Dean does his best over the next day and a half not to silently freak out about it.  
But silently freaking out is what Dean does, and by the time Wednesday night rolls around he's concocted a thousand different reasons in his head for his dad's visit. What if John's found himself a new girl and has decided to marry her? What if he got a promotion and has to move to like Narnia or some shit? But somehow, the possibility that keeps circulating through Dean's head is that for whatever reason, he's pulling them out of school and moving them somewhere else. And Dean can't really take that possibility. Not after everything he's found here that he's never had anywhere else and probably won't ever find again in a lifetime. Dean realizes for the first time with absolute clarity that he's happy at Our Lady of the Stars. Yeah it's too cold, and yeah, the nuns mostly suck, and there aren't any girls, and he has to sit through church multiple times every week. But Dean stopped caring about girls a long time ago, and he can learn to live with everything else.  
Dean knows that whatever the outcome tonight, in a few short months he'll be graduating and he and Castiel will be expected to go their separate ways. But he's starting to think that maybe, if everything works out, it won't have to happen like that. If it's meant to be they'll find a way to stay together. Dean has to believe it at least halfheartedly, because right now the thought of leaving Cas is like a punch in the stomach.

John looks good, Dean has to admit. The dark bags that normally hang beneath his eyes are absent and he's clean-shaven and Dean thinks he even got a haircut in the past couple months. Dean will never admit any of this of course. He treats his father with a calm indifference that reveals neither his happiness at Our Lady of the Stars nor his firm belief that his father's decision to send them there had been the best one he's ever made.  
In fact, Sam and Dean don't say a word almost the entire ride to the restaurant. John tries several times to make conversation, he really does. But it's forced and his efforts fall flat as Dean breathes in the familiar scent of the Impala, disturbed to find that he's missed the car more than he's missed John.  
They pull up in front of a pizza restaurant Dean has eaten at several times with Castiel.  
"Heard anything about this place?" John asks awkwardly as they get out of the car.  
"Been here a few times," Dean answers with a shrug.  
"You allowed to leave campus?"  
"On weekends, yeah."  
"That's cool," John says. Then he looks away and Dean tries to stop himself from screaming at how ridiculous this entire situation is. He knows John is trying to connect with his sons, as bad at it as he may be. But he doesn't know why, and the anticipation is killing him.  
"So dad, I hope you don't mind me asking but, why did you bring us here?" Sam finally steps in after they sit down at their table. Dean could kiss him. "Dean said you wanted to talk to us about something."  
"Patience. I'll tell you after we get our food." Sam huffs in response and rolls his eyes. John smiles at him like it's his first time seeing Sam's bitchface. It might be, for all the attention he pays. "So I got a call from the school last week saying you guys switched rooms and are now in the same dorm. Wanna tell me what that's all about?"  
Sam and Dean exchange glances. Finally Sam steps in.  
"Well my friend Ash—that's the guy I was rooming with before—just transferred out of the school, kind of without warning. We've been texting but he hasn't really given me a straight answer as to why he left."  
It's not a complete lie.  
"So you boys make any friends?"  
"Dean has," Sam volunteers. "His name's Castiel. He and Dean are real close."  
Dean shoots Sam a look he hopes John doesn't see and Sam grins brightly.  
"That's good to hear," John says, blessedly oblivious. "What about you, Sammy?"  
"I did have this one friend," Sam explains. "My old roommate. But he's gone. Now I'm hanging out with this kid named Gabriel."  
"Oh yeah? What's he like?"  
"He's cool I guess. He's annoying sometimes but I think he does it on purpose."  
It's quiet for a while, and then Sam asks, "What about you, Dad? You making any… friends?"  
"No, not many. You know how the job can be. Not much room for socializing." Or parenting. The conversation is forced until the food comes and the waiter leaves and they're all uncomfortably eating pizza. Then John gets excited.  
"So Dean, what I brought you here to tell you, are you ready?" When Dean makes no indication of readiness John continues anyway. "After many years of working my way up the corporate ladder and making connections with the right people, I've managed to secure a job for you. Right out of high school, as soon as you graduate. You'll start off low of course, in a cubicle, but you'll get a pretty good starting salary and since you're joining the company so early, over the years you definitely will have the opportunity to work your way up. Maybe even past me some day!"  
Dean waits for the information to sink in, staring at his father in disbelief. Whatever Dean had been expecting, it hadn't been this.  
His immediate thought is that he doesn't want it. He doesn't want the job, never wanted it in the first place. He's simultaneously touched that his father went through the trouble of finding a job for him and annoyed at how presumptuous he's being. "You will start low," "You will have the opportunity to work your way up." He never asked if Dean wanted the job. In his whole life John’s never even asked Dean what he wants to be when he grows up, whether he wants to go to college. All John does is assume that what John wants to happen is what everyone wants to happen, and ignore everything that doesn't fit into his little dream world.  
"Dad, I… I'll definitely consider it," Dean finally manages to say.  
"Consider it?" John asks, frowning. "What's there to consider? It's a top-notch job, you'll be making the kind of money college graduates make when they first start out. Plus, what other opportunities are there like this?"  
"I just don't know that sales is the right career path for me, Dad."  
"Now son, you're just being silly, I mean what else could you-"  
"There're a lot of things I could do, Dad. I'm actually really good in my engineering class, and I know how to work with cars. I could work in a shop, maybe even get a degree. I'm just saying there's more I could do than what you've decided you want me to do. I don't want a job that's gonna require me to move around all the time, either. What if I want a relationship? A family?"  
The look in John's eyes tells Dean that this is not going the way he had planned. Well, good. Serves him right.  
"A relationship? Come on, Dean, when was the last time you dated a girl for more than a month?" Dean grips the table, trying to control his anger.  
"Actually, Dad, I'm in a pretty fucking great relationship right now! Not that I'd expect you to know that. Or, you know, care."  
That catches John by surprise, and he stares at Dean in disbelief for a few seconds before his expression softens and he says, "We'll talk about this later."  
They decide to skip the movie. The ride back to the school is silent. As soon as John puts the car in park Dean is out the door and walking back to the dorms without a word.

Castiel has been locking his door, something neither of them had ever bothered to do when they were roommates. It unsettles Dean, when he tries the knob and it sticks. He wonders what Castiel is afraid of. Except he already knows.  
He knocks on the door.  
"Cas," he calls. "It's me."  
The door opens a few seconds later and Dean steps into a kiss from Castiel, closing the door behind him.  
"How did it go?" Cas finally asks. There's concern in his eyes, and Dean realizes for the first time that he hadn't been the only one worried about his father's "news." It's been killing Cas, too.  
"Cas, it's... things are pretty bad. I still haven't decided whether I fucked up or not but god damn if I didn't say what was on my mind." He relays his conversation with John to Castiel, who listens intently the entire time, the bastard. When he's done he doesn't know whether Castiel looks relieved or even more concerned.  
"You told your dad about us?" is all he says.  
"Well, yes and no. I told him I was in a relationship. Never used any names or, uh, pronouns. I figured I'd drop the whole 'I'm dating a boy' bomb at a separate time from the 'fuck you and your plans for my future' bomb. Give him some time to recuperate before Nagasaki."  
"You're comparing our relationship to a nuclear warhead," Cas says, tilting his head in that way that still manages to yank Dean's heart into his throat.  
"Well, yeah," Dean says, leaning into Cas so that their noses are just inches apart. Castiel smells like cucumber shampoo and bar soap. "I mean I considered other metaphors but... nothing else was really hot enough."  
An uncharacteristically forceful set of hands shove him against the wall. Dean winces, not in pain, but in the knowledge that the entire floor heard the thud of his back against the wall and its implications. Castiel slips away from Dean's mouth and sucks at his pulse point, scraping gently with his teeth until Dean tilts his head back against the wall.  
"We should, uh," Dean gasps out. "Try to keep it down this time. You know, the volume."  
"Are you ashamed?" Cas asks, placing tender kisses on Dean's collarbone.  
"No, I just-" But whatever Dean was about to say is cut short when the other boy presses a hand to the bulge forming in Dean's jeans. He lets out a quiet groan, heat flooding through his body like a fever he can't get enough of.  
"I'll be quiet if you will," Castiel promises. Then he starts unbuckling Dean's belt, fingers sure and steady as he whips the leather strap through the belt loops and drops it to the floor with a dull clunking sound.  
It's like he's a whole different person, the Castiel who's taking off Dean's pants. There's none of the quiet, timid roommate and socially awkward best friend that Dean has come to know. This Castiel knows what he wants, and he knows how to get it, and he's confident and unashamed. Dean has brought out these changes in him, he realizes. He lets out a hiss as sure fingers slip into his underwear and grasp him.  
And before Dean knows it, Cas is on his knees.  
It's overwhelming, the feel of Castiel's mouth on his dick. Even through his underwear, Cas mouthing hungrily at the bulge forming beneath the fabric. They've never gone this far before, and until now Dean never fully realized how much he wanted them to. He fists a hand through Castiel's hair, needing to hold on to something, anything as the other boy easily slips the underwear off his hips and onto the floor. For a second, Dean feels uncomfortably exposed, as he always does with his dick inches from another person's face. Then Cas looks him in the eye and takes him into his mouth.  
Dean's had plenty blowjobs before. He considers himself somewhat of a blowjob connoisseur. Blowjobs, in fact, easily make his list of the top five unarguably greatest things in the world. Dean's had blowjobs from blowjob virgins who couldn't find their way around a dick if they had a GPS. He's had blowjobs from chicks that could easily make a living doing it. And then there's Castiel. It's not that he's experienced, or even particularly talented at the art of fellatio. The difference between Castiel and everyone else who has ever had Dean's dick in their mouth is that Castiel wants it just as much as Dean does. And Dean can't even think. Cas is fucking devouring him, swallowing as much of him as he can before sliding him back out again. His tongue is everywhere and he's moaning softly around Dean's dick and Dean knows if this goes on much longer it's going to be over before it even began.  
"Cas," Dean pants. "Cas, stop." There's a slurping sound as Cas pulls off of Dean, looking up at him in curiosity. "I..." Dean starts, unsure if he's really about to say what he thinks he's going to say. "I want you to fuck me," he mutters. Castiel stands up and wraps his arms around Dean's waist.  
"Are you sure?" he asks in Dean's ear, voice wrecked. Instead of answering, Dean pulls him over to the bed. Castiel lays him down gently but forcefully and straddles him before taking off his own clothes followed shortly by Dean's shirt, the sole-surviving article of clothing.  
Dean's pushed back against the pillow as Castiel kisses him passionately, fucking Dean's mouth with his tongue. Dean’s response is almost desperate. He lifts his head up and presses his mouth against Castiel's so roughly it hurts. Hands tangle in Dean's hair, pulling him up. Dean is distinctly aware of his erection, throbbing almost painfully against his belly. Cas is half hard too, and occasionally they press together and it's all Dean can do not to grind against the boy on top of him until he comes.  
"Please," he finally gasps against Castiel's swollen lips, needing more than the fleeting contact of their cocks. Cas pulls away abruptly.  
"If my understanding is correct, we will need..."  
"Condom and lube, yeah. Bottom drawer of my old night stand." Dean immediately misses Castiel's presence as he gets up to rummage through the night stand. Needing friction, he starts stroking himself gently until Cas returns to the bed.  
"How do I...?" Cas asks, holding the condom and lube packet curiously. His confusion shouldn't be as adorable as it is. Dean sits up against the pillows and motions for Cas to sit on his lap. When Cas obliges, Dean rolls the condom onto him almost impatiently. He squeezes some of the lube out into his palm and rubs it up and down Castiel's dick. Cas shudders at the contact.  
"Here," Dean says, squirting the remaining lube into Castiel's hand. Cas doesn't seem to need any further instruction. Situating himself between Dean's spread legs, Cas applies the lube to Dean's hole generously, eyes dark with lust. It's a strange sensation, but not unwanted, and Dean finds himself rocking against Cas's hand eagerly until he feels a single finger pressed against his entrance. Castiel looks Dean in the eye questioningly, asking permission. "What part of 'fuck me,' sounded uncertain to you?" Dean answers. The corners of Castiel's mouth twitch. And then he slowly pushes the finger inside.  
It doesn't hurt, at first. It's weird, and tight, and Dean wants more. Castiel obliges, sliding a second finger inside. And that's when it starts to hurt. Dean gasps, gripping the sheets. Cas freezes.  
"Don't stop," Dean says in a voice that he hopes is reassuring because yeah this is painful but he wants it. He wants it so much. Castiel pushes his fingers in and out, slowly at first, and then more rapidly as he twists and scissors the fingers inside Dean. Dean's just starting to think maybe anal sex isn't all it's cracked up to be when Cas's fingers hit a spot in Dean that makes him cry out, despite his promise to keep quiet. Cas smirks in accomplishment and hits the spot again after a few more tries. Dean twists the sheets in his hands and bites his lip hard.  
"Okay," he finally manages to say. "I'm ready."  
Cas slides his fingers out and Dean feels empty for the few seconds it takes for Cas to position himself against Dean's ass. Then, without warning, he's sliding into Dean and jesus fuck this is way more than fingers could have prepared him for. When he's all the way inside, Dean feels as if he's falling to pieces but he's not worried. If anyone can put him back together, it's Cas.  
Then Castiel starts moving, building up a rhythm before leaning down to kiss Dean softly. It's too much, too painful, too perfect. Dean feels tears forming in his eyes that he could blame on the pain, probably will, but it really has more to do with how absolutely complete he feels in this moment. How he never realized before that he was missing something until he had it.  
All emotional sentiment is lost when the head of Cas's cock slams against Dean's prostate. Dean desperately digs his nails into Castiel's hips and he starts thrusting against Cas with a rhythm of his own, riding Cas's cock and trying to find that perfect angle again. It takes a few minutes, but they do, and Dean can feel pre-come beading at the head of his dick.  
"Dean," Cas groans into his ear, breathless. Dean can tell he's close by the way his hips seem to have lost all rhythm, how he's slamming into him desperately and gracelessly. Finally, Cas takes Dean's cock in his fist and pumps him in time with his hips.  
He doesn't last long like this, never really stood a chance. It only takes about a minute for Cas to find Dean's prostate again and then he's hitting it every time and stroking Dean with his hand and then Dean's coming all over both of their stomachs. In a few more thrusts, Cas is gone, too, making noises in the back of his throat that should be banned from planet earth.  
He pulls out with a deep breath and collapses on the bed next to Dean, both of them drenched in sweat and come. In different circumstances Dean would be disgusted. Instead, he kisses Cas tenderly and says, "Thank you." And there's so much he could be thanking him for. Dean could be thanking Cas for the sex, or for being there for him when his dad wasn't. He could be thanking him for helping Dean not fail all of his classes, for getting along so well with Sam, for giving Dean the courage and the motivation to stand up to John, for giving up his entire life, future, and set of moral values in order to be with Dean. But Castiel doesn't ask him to clarify. He just smiles.

They've been on a horror movie kick recently. Dean's never been one to say no to a good slasher flick, but the real horror junkie in him had always sort of idolized Stephen King. So that's where they start. They watch them with Sam, at first, until he starts hiding under the covers halfway through. Then they decide it's safe to migrate to Castiel's room for their King marathons. Sam doesn't complain.  
Dean won't admit that he originally showed Cas the Shining because he knew it would scare the shit out of him and eventually lead to frightened cuddling and then less frightened cuddling and then fondling and then sex. Regardless, the plan backfired entirely. Castiel watched the whole thing with an almost macabre fascination that would have made Dean uneasy if it were anyone else. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Castiel. So they watched three more that night. By the end of Misery the first feeble glow of sunlight was peeking through the curtains of the dorm and Dean could barely keep his eyes open. It was the first time Cas had ever skipped Sunday mass. They slept until dinner.  
Teachers are starting to mention finals. They're still over a month away, but every time they're mentioned the pit in Dean's stomach gets heavier, crying out for attention. And it's not because he gives a shit about his grades, either. He doesn't mention finals to Castiel, or the fact that what they have can't last forever. Because ignoring problems is what Dean Winchester does.

He and Sam are hanging out in the freshman common room playing Foosball when they're approached by a stout nun Dean doesn't recognize.  
"Dean Winchester?" she says, her eyes darting between the two of them as if she's unsure which one she's supposed to be talking to. Dean waves a hand with a small nervous grin. Being approached by nuns outside of class generally does not bode well. "Sister Anna would like to see you. I'm told you know where to find her."  
"Uh, sure," Dean says, not knowing what to think. Sister Anna has never asked to see him before on his own, and all of his brief encounters with her in the past have consisted mainly of him watching while she holds a conversation with Castiel. As he walks to the building which houses the nuns, Dean tries to imagine some logical reason Sister Anna would want to talk to him. He can't.  
He gets some concerned looks from various nuns as he walks through the building. When he gets to Sister Anna's room the door is already open.  
Dean hasn't seen the nun in a while, and he's shocked silent at how much worse she looks. Somehow she's managed to sit up in bed, her face almost as pale as the pillows she's propped up against. Her skin clings to her bones with nearly nothing in-between but purple veins that pop out like tiny snakes. But she looks happy to see Dean, for whatever reason, and her eyes light up when he walks in the room.  
"Mr. Winchester! Glad you could make it. Come on in, make yourself comfortable," she says, motioning to the chair at her bedside, the one Cas usually sits in when he feeds her, reads to her, talks to her. It's not until Dean sits in the chair that he fully realizes just how much Castiel has done for this woman, and vice-versa, and how much it's going to hurt him when she finally passes on.  
"Hey Sister Anna," Dean says awkwardly. "You wanted to see me?"  
"I know this must seem strange to you, Dean, and I apologize. But I needed to talk to you alone and... well I feel like my time is running out." Dean swallows hard and nods. "It's about Castiel. I know the two of you are close. Closer, perhaps, than I am able to understand. Or at least in a way that I am unable to understand. Being a nun and all," she adds with a wink.  
"Cas... Cas told you? About...?"  
"No, no, he hasn't told me anything. But it's there. On his face, in his voice, the way he carries himself. Mostly in the way he speaks of you, which he does frequently."  
Dean doesn't know what to say. He studies the floor, unsure where Sister Anna is going with this and wishing she weren't going anywhere with it at all.  
"Look," he says. "I know it goes against your religion or whatever but-"  
"I didn't call you here to berate you, Dean. Like I said before, I haven't got much time left here. I'll be gone by graduation, most likely. I've accepted that. But Castiel has not. And when the time comes, he's going to blame himself. He's going to try and punish himself. Castiel doesn't know how to... well he really isn't the best at being happy. Not on his own. He's concocted this idea that it's wrong to be, and no matter how many times I tell him otherwise it never seems to sink in. That's why I called you here, Dean. Other than me, you're the only thing in this world that means anything to him. You can't let him think that this is his fault. And you definitely can't let him do anything drastic like join the goddamn priesthood because you and I both know that's not what he wants. Not anymore." Sister Anna looks Dean in the eye expectantly until he nods his head in agreement.  
"Yeah," he says, trying not to tear up because god damn it his throat is burning. "Yeah I think I can do that."  
"Good," Sister Anna says, clapping her hands together. "Well that's that, I suppose. Thank you for coming to see me. It's.. it's probably best if you don't tell Castiel of our meeting. At least, not for now. It will probably just upset him."  
"Yeah, of course," Dean says, getting up from the chair. "Thanks. You know, for talking to me about this. About Cas. It means a lot to me."  
"No, Dean. Thank you. I know you're just teenagers and I don't want you to feel... obligated or anything but... I really think the two of you could make it. You know, for good. I never thought Castiel would find someone that... well, I never thought he'd find someone. You're something special, Dean Winchester." Dean doesn't know what to say to that. He nods, chokes out a "Thanks again," and slips out of the room before any tears can escape.

It's the conversation with Sister Anna that convinces him. On the sixteenth of April, Dean Winchester, the king of burying problems so deep within him that it would take a professional team of archeologists to excavate them, decides to confront what's been bothering him since February. He and Castiel are going to have the relationship talk. And then he's going to call John and tell him what's up.  
It's all he thinks about during school, and Dean walks out of his last class of the day completely prepared for the multiple heart-to-hearts that lie ahead. And Dean hates heart-to-hearts.  
But he should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.  
When Dean gets to his and Sam's dorm he stops breathing for a second. Sitting on Sam's bed is John Winchester. Sam is sitting awkwardly at his desk, eyes scanning over a math book Dean knows he isn't actually reading.  
"Uh, hey dad. What are you doing here?" Dean asks from his position frozen in the door frame. John looks up and smiles weakly.  
"Hey, Dean. Look, I'm sorry about the last time we saw each other. I just wanted to come and try and make it right. I'll take you out to dinner again, and we won't talk about anything that'll lead to an argument. I just... I don't like bein' so far away from you boys on such bad terms. I'll rest easier knowing my kids don't hate me."  
Approximately twelve different angry replies to that fly through Dean's head. He could point out how selfish that sounds. He could sarcastically remark that going out to dinner worked so well last time. Mostly, Dean wants to point out that John's offer to not talk about anything that will lead to an argument means, mostly, Dean's future employment, and how this means that John's expectations of him haven't changed. Instead, Dean just says "Sure, dad. That sounds great." And it's not because he decided to be a bigger person. This, as with most of his dealings with John, is strategic. "But is it okay if I bring a friend? There's someone I want you to meet."  
Dean barely catches a glimpse of Sam's jaw dropping from across the room.  
"That'd be fine, I guess. Why don't you go get him and then we can grab an early dinner."  
"Alright, be right back," Dean says as he walks out the door, wondering what the hell he's getting himself into.

Dinner is alright up until the point where it's not. Castiel and John have been getting along well, if not awkwardly, and Dean and Sam have been civil enough, answering all of John's questions halfheartedly and politely. John doesn't seem to notice. He's just happy that they're talking to him. And that's when he decides to ask how Cas met Dean.  
"We were roommates," Cas answers, easily enough.  
"Oh right, I remember Sam mentioning you now. Said Dean had made pretty good friends with his roommate. I just now made the connection." Dean is somewhat shocked that John remembered that detail, but he's too nervous to comment on it. Nausea bubbling up in his throat, Dean tells himself that it's now or never. And then he speaks.  
"Actually, Dad, that's something I wanted to talk to you about. Remember when I told you I was in a relationship?"  
"Yeah, I thought you were just trying to make me feel bad. You mean you've actually got a girlfriend?" Dean swallows hard, his tongue an uncomfortable wedge of sandpaper and his heart pounding in his chest.  
"No, I've got a boyfriend." The table is completely silent until Dean clarifies. "Cas. Cas is my boyfriend."  
Sam stares up at the ceiling in vague fascination. Castiel looks somewhat like a caged animal, eyes darting all around the room as if looking for an escape. Dean just narrows his eyes and studies his father for a reaction. He doesn't get one.  
"You must have inherited your mother's sense of humor, son, because I'm just not getting the punchline."  
"It's not a joke, dad," he says, voice cracking. He can't bring himself to say anything else. Castiel squeezes his hand under the table. Dean squeezes back.  
"Dean," John finally says, eyes narrow and mouth tight. "I know it must be confusing. Frustrating, even, not having any girls at your school. But that don't mean you just substitute for the next best thing, you know? You're about to graduate in just over a month and then you can have all the girls you want."  
Dean didn't know what reaction he was expecting from John. Certainly not understanding. Anger, probably. But denial? Somehow this is worse.  
"Dad, let me make one thing clear. Castiel is not the 'next best thing,' okay? He's not a substitute for anything. He's one of the best things in my life right now, that's why I wanted you to meet him. Because whatever I end up doing with my future, I want him there with me."  
"Do you know how crazy you sound right now? You just met, what, three months ago? And now you're planning a future with him? With a boy? Dean, listen to yourself."  
"No, you listen to yourself!" Dean yells. He stands up violently, chair toppling over behind him. "You know what, I am done with this conversation. I don't know why I ever thought I could get you to understand me. You never have, why start now?" As Dean storms out of the restaurant, curious heads turn to watch him leave. He can feel Sam shooting daggers at the back of his head, and a small part of him feels bad for abandoning him with John. But not enough to make him turn around. Castiel, bless his heart, stands up politely and dismisses himself, saying it was nice to meet John and thanking him for dinner.  
Once they're out of the restaurant, Cas grabs Dean's hand and laces their fingers together. Dean lets out a heavy sigh he'd been holding in since that afternoon. They walk back toward campus in silence for a while, until Castiel decides to speak.  
"What you said, at the restaurant, about the future. Is that really how you feel?"  
"Yeah," Dean answers. The evening might not have gone quite as he had planned, but at least he's getting both of these chick flick moments out of the way. Sometimes it's funny how things work out. "Yeah, it is. I don't know about you, and I didn't mean to speak for you back then, but... Jesus Christ there is just no way to phrase this without sounding like a girl. Cas, I can't picture a future without you. Or at least, I don't want to. I know it'll be hard but, after graduation, I don't want this to end."  
"I feel... very fortunate right now," Castiel replies after a beat. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to beg you to stay with me. There is only so much time I can spend on my knees."  
Dean lets out a sharp bark of laughter in shock and disbelief.  
"Was that... Cas was that a dirty joke you made just now? Son of a bitch, I am rubbing off on you too much. And don't even touch that one."  
When they get back to the school and see the ambulance Dean's stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch. Castiel stops breathing. There's a crowd of people gathered around the ambulance in silence.  
"Cas, why don't we go back to the dorms?" Dean asks, tugging on Castiel's arm gently.  
"No," he breathes. He drops Dean's hand and walks over to the crowd surrounding the ambulance, expressionless, as if in a trance. Several people look up as he approaches and then back down at the ground like they're afraid to meet his gaze. "What is it?" he asks, quietly at first. When no one replies he yells it again. A nun clears her throat right as the ambulance doors close and the vehicle drives away.  
"It's Sister Anna," the nun says. "She's dead."

Chapter 9

It scares Dean how Cas has no initial reaction to the news of Sister Anna's death. No tears, no anger. Just blinks as he watches the ambulance drive away carrying the only family he'd ever had. He lets Dean walk him back to his dorm, neither of them speaking a word. He lets Dean touch him, hug him, kiss him on the forehead. But he doesn't respond. He just blinks.

Dean knows something about loss, he's no stranger to grief. It's different, though, to a four year old. Emotions aren't as vivid then, or as all-consuming. You're angry one minute and then the next, it's possible, for a moment, to be happy. Dean has a feeling it's not that easy when you're an adult. So he doesn't tell Cas that he knows how he feels, doesn't tell him it's going to get better. Because he knows it's not true, and he knows that right now, nothing he can say will mean shit.  
Dean calls Sam to let him know he's sleeping over with Cas that night. “I heard about Sister Anna-” Sam says, but Dean cuts him off with a curt “Talk to you later,” and hangs up the phone. He takes his old bed when Cas makes it clear by his body language that he needs space. When Dean wakes up the next morning, Cas is gone.  
“Sam, have you seen Cas anywhere?” Dean asks, stumbling into his dorm. Sam looks at him with a pained expression on his face.  
“I haven't. Dean, is he okay?”  
“No he's not fucking okay,” Dean snaps. Sam looks down. “Look, man, I'm sorry,” Dean amends. “I just... I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to deal with something his huge.”  
Sam nods slowly, and when he looks at Dean it's as if he's seeing his brother in a whole new light. “You really care, Dean. As long as Cas can see that, I don't think you need to do anything else.”

The chapel is the first place Dean looks, and at first he thinks it's empty, almost leaves before he notices the slim set of shoulders in the front row of pews. Dean clears his throat to announce his presence and Cas lifts his head a little. He doesn't turn around. Cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal, Dean sits next to Cas in the pew, leaving several feet of space between them. Nothing happens for a while short of Dean feeling awful and floundering inside himself with no clue what to say.  
“It's my fault, you know,” Castiel says, and if he and Dean weren't the only two in the chapel Dean would have thought the words had come from somebody else. Castiel's voice is low and scratchy and distraught, and Dean hates the sound of it. “She's dead because of me.”  
“What are you talking about?” Dean says, incredulous. He thinks back to his conversation with Sister Anna.  
“This is God's punishment for me. For leaving the church. Sister Anna fed me, raised me, taught me to talk, to read, made sure I got through school. She did everything for me, and she did it out of the goodness of her own heart. And the only thing I had to do, the one thing this world has ever asked of me in return, was to be a good Catholic and to become a priest. And for 18 years I did that. I studied the Bible, the Catechism. I never once drank or smoked, never missed a day of church, never partook in sexual intercourse, and Sister Anna was sick but she lived. You think it's a coincidence that she died after I had gone astray? No. It’s all my fault.”  
“Is that really what you think?” Dean says quietly. “That I led you astray? Cause you're making me feel like some kind of demon or something, trying to bring you over to the dark side. Castiel, I've never made you do anything you didn't wanna do.”  
“I know,” Castiels says suddenly. “I know. But I can't help feeling responsible.” They sit in silence for a while as Dean carefully calculates his next words.  
“Cas,” he says at last, eyes fixated on the front of the church. “There's something I never told you. About a week ago, a nun came up to and told me that Sister Anna wanted to see me. So I went.” Castiel looks up, surprised. He waits for Dean to continue.  
“She told me she didn't have much time left. She knew, Cas. She could feel it. God didn't do this. It was sickness. Sometimes people just die, and there's no one to blame, and it will never in a million years make any sense, and you have to just accept that and try to keep living without losing it. You don't have a choice.”  
“Dean, I know you mean well, but,”  
“I'm not done. She told me something else, too. She knew, I think, that you would blame yourself. And she made me promise that I wouldn't let you. So don't. Do what you have to do to get past this, but do not blame yourself. And don't do anything you don't fucking want to do. I'm not saying you have to stay with me. Just... don't do this to yourself. I can't sit here and watch you do it.”

Cas looks up with tears in his eyes, and it’s the first he’s cried since it happened. Dean is relieved, if only just that Cas can still feel emotion. He seemed so hollow, stunned in the aftermath. Now he looks broken and vulnerable and Dean wants to wrap him in his arms and protect him from the world.  
“Dean I—thank you.” He chokes out, voice trembling. “If I didn’t have you I don’t know what I… I don’t think I could…” and then he’s sobbing too hard to finish. Dean doesn’t think there was much else he could have said anyway. He pulls Cas to his chest, stroking his hair and telling him it’s okay even though he knows it’s not and it won’t be for a while. Cas clutches at Dean’s shirt desperately like he’s scared that if he doesn’t hold on tight enough, Dean will slip away.  
They stay like this for God knows how long, until Cas finally stops crying. He sits up and wipes his eyes and tries to regain his composure, apparently embarrassed. Dean leans over and kisses him softly in reassurance, but Cas pulls away.  
“Dean,” he says, gently putting a halting hand to Dean’s mouth. “I need some time to… there are some things I need to reconcile within myself. I need… space. I believe that’s the appropriate phrase.”  
Dean nods, trying not to let his face betray how much it hurt to hear that.  
“Well,” he says, getting up unceremoniously. “You know where to find me.” He walks out of the church without daring to look back.

The whole school is unnaturally quiet the next day, and everyone’s eyes are on Castiel. No one says a word to him, they just stare expectantly as he walks through the hallways, like they’re waiting for him to snap. He doesn’t, of course. He won’t give them the satisfaction.  
Even though it nearly kills him, Dean keeps his distance over the next few days. He doesn’t go visit Cas’s dorm after class anymore, opting to stay in his own and watch movies with Sam, no matter how much his little brother prods him to just “go over there already, you’re such a girl.” He doesn’t even know where Castiel has been eating, and he has this horrible image of Cas sitting all alone in Sister Anna’s old room, not touching his food as he stares at her empty bed. But he doesn’t dare ask. He still walks with Castiel to class sometimes, neither of them speaking . During these walks they keep a further distance from each other than they’ve ever done, though after some time they inevitably drift shoulder to shoulder, driven by the magnetic force that has always, probably always will exist between them . Dean thinks he and Castiel could be at opposite ends of the world hating each other and Dean would still feel that pull.

The funeral is held in the chapel on a Sunday morning. The first eulogies are delivered by various nuns, all of whom say basically the same thing. Sister Anna was a devoted member of the church, a wonderful Catholic, and a caring philanthropist. Though emotional and praiseworthy, they all seem impersonal, like there’s a stock of pre-fabricated eulogies for nuns in a hat somewhere for anyone to just reach in and choose from. Dean is relieved when Cas gets up to speak.  
He looks better. The dark circles under his eyes have faded from deep violet to a light blue, and his skin no longer has the greenish tint of one who is either dying or coming back from the dead. He looks, if anything, at ease in front of the congregation. Dean has a feeling that whatever Castiel is about to say, he’s wanted to say it for a while.  
If the church was hushed before, it’s dead silent now.  
“Sister Anna,” Cas begins, voice surprisingly steady. “was a devoted member of the church, that is true. She helped many people in need, always thinking of others before herself. She preached the way of the lord in ways that made his word easy for practically anyone to understand, believers and skeptics alike. But I’m not here to talk about that. Sister Anna was one of the greatest people I have ever known, and she was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother.” His voice wavers here, and Dean reluctantly feels tears spring to his eyes. “She taught me so many things, not just about God, but about people. And not everything she taught me was what I wanted to hear. But Sister Anna never lied to me. Ever since I was old enough to ask questions, she respected me enough as an individual to give me the truth.  
“There was one instance, when I was a child, that stands out to me in particular. I had found this bird outside of the chapel with a broken wing. Concerned, I brought it so Sister Anna. She helped me take care of the bird, taught me how to feed it, how to bandage the wing so that it could heal. It made a rapid recovery, and we were counting down the days until we would set it free again. Then, one day, I woke up and the bird wasn’t moving. Crying, I brought it to Sister Anna and asked her what was wrong. She told me that the bird was dead. I had never experienced death before, and didn’t know what it meant. Sister Anna explained to me carefully that everything must come to an end, and that every living thing will die one day. She told me that the bird had moved onto a better place, that it was now in heaven. Heaven was a concept I was familiar with, and that put me at ease. She then told me that she was going to die one day too, and that I would have to accept that with the same assurance that she was off to a better place.  
“I never thought,” Castiel says, gripping the edge of the podium. “I never thought that day would come so soon. And I’m having trouble accepting it. But I have to, for her. Without her I don’t know where I would be.” Castiel pauses and looks up from the podium, his red-rimmed eyes finding Dean’s in the crowd. “Now that she’s gone, there are a lot of decisions I’m going to have to make on my own. But the last thing she gave to me before she left was the freedom to make my own choices. I’m just now starting to realize that it is the most important gift I have ever received.  
“Sister Anna was right, all living things must eventually come to an end. But her impact on the world lives on. She was a devoted servant of God, yes, but that’s not how I’m going to remember her. I’m going to remember Sister Anna as a mother, as a teacher, and, ultimately, as the woman who changed my life.”  
As he steps down from the podium, Cas looks almost happy. Polite applause sounds around the chapel and Dean does his best to hide the tears running down his face. To his surprise, Castiel walks past the front pew where he had been sitting and all the way back to Dean’s row. An affectionate smile makes its way across Castiel’s face.  
“You’re crying,” he says quietly. Back at the front of the church the priest has resumed the ceremony.  
“No m’not,” Dean insists, wiping a sleeve across his face. “Shut up and get your ass down here,” he says, scooting over to make room for Cas. Sam watches the whole thing out of the corner of his eye with apparent delight. “I thought you needed space or whatever,” Dean says once Cas is seated next to him.  
“I’ve had enough space from you for one lifetime, Dean Winchester,” Cas whispers under the funeral proceedings. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”  
“No guilt-induced priesthood-joining?”  
“None.”  
“You’re gonna be a fuckin nun? Is that even, like, allowed?”  
“You are the most frustrating person I have ever come in contact with, I don’t think I tell you that often enough.”  
They hold hands for the rest of the ceremony and if anyone notices, they don’t mention it.

Chapter 10

“Cas, this is good. I don’t know what you’re losing your shit over but this is good. You didn’t seem to have a problem with the last speech you gave,” Dean remarks, flipping through the note cards the valedictorian has prepared. He’s careful to avoid any specific mention of the funeral or Sister Anna. Cas is healing still, and though he’s doing really well, Dean is terrified he’ll rip out the sutures if he’s not careful. Castiel continues to pace the dorm room, tearing at his hair.  
“At the funeral I was emotional. I was speaking from the heart. I didn’t even know I was going to give that speech until I was up on the podium. But this, this is nerve-wracking. Couldn’t I have gotten a B in just one class? It would have been worth it, to be able not to do this.”  
He plops down on the bed next to Dean looking very much like a terrified puppy.  
“Cas, man, relax,” Dean says. He rubs comforting circles across Castiel’s back, reveling in the way the other boy seems to melt under his touch.  
Dean’s done his fair share of freaking out about graduation too, though, not that he’d ever admit to it.  
His dad is probably coming to the ceremony, that much he’s accepted. What worries him is not knowing where exactly he and his dad stand on , well, anything. The whole boyfriend thing is actually the least of Dean’s worries. What worries Dean now is the future. With graduation only five days away, Dean’s never been more unsure what he’s going to do after high school. Will he even have a place to stay? Money with which to live? To eat? And what about Cas? But then again, that’s the one thing Dean is certain of. Whatever he does, wherever he goes, Cas is coming with him. In some ways Dean has never been more certain of anything. He looks up at Castiel with a small, contented smile.  
“What?” Cas stops panicking just long enough to ask.  
“Nothing,” says Dean. “Just happy.”  
And it’s the damndest fucking thing. He is.

“Wow,” Sam says.  
“What? I look stupid, I know. It’s a graduation gown, I think it was designed to look stupid.”  
“No, Dean, you… you look great,” Sam reassures him. It’s a lie, Dean knows. He looks dumb as fuck. But Sam means it, and there’s an emotion on his face that Dean can’t place. Pride maybe? “I never thought you would actually graduate. Shit, that sounded bad. I mean,”  
“I know, Sammy. I never thought I would either. And on time and everything, with not a D on my report card. For uh, this semester, anyway,” Dean says with a crooked smile. And he’s proud, he really is. He knows it’s a stupid thing to be proud of, just graduating high school. But it’s a big deal for him. It’s more than he ever expected of himself.  
“I wish mom could be here,” says Sam. Dean’s smile fades rapidly.  
“Come on, Sam, don’t even start with the girly emotional bullshit. I’m graduating, not getting married.”  
“Yet,” Sam adds with a smirk. Dean punches him on the arm, trying not to think too hard about his mom, or what she would say if she were there. He doesn’t want to be one of those saps that cries at graduation.

The ceremony is held in a field behind the school, all decked out with white plastic folding chairs and balloons and streamers and flowers. It’s as good a place as any to graduate, Dean thinks. He sincerely doubts anyone here managed to sneak in a blowup doll, though.  
As valedictorian, Castiel is sitting up on the stage along with the headmistress and a few other probably important people Dean doesn’t give a shit about. As a Winchester, Dean is sitting in the very back row, right next to Gordon Walker.  
Dean didn’t have the chance to meet up with his dad before graduation. He searches the bleachers set up on behind the rows of chairs for Sam and John and when at first he can’t find them, Dean starts to think maybe his dad bailed after all. But eventually he spots them, sitting at the very top of one of the bleachers, eyes trained on the headmistress as she gives the first speech of the ceremony. Something settles within Dean. He’s a lot happier now just knowing that they’re there.  
Gordon keeps looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye like he wants to start something, or like he’s waiting for Dean to start something. Dean’s not biting. He just has to get through graduation, just the next hour and a half, and then he’ll never have to see or hear or speak to Gordon Walker again.  
He should have known it wasn’t going to work out like that.  
The headmistress finishes up her speech by introducing Castiel and calling him to the podium. Cas looks terrified. He approaches the podium on unsure feet, hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of his gown. Dean tries to shoot him a reassuring smile but he’s not sure Cas catches it from so far away. He draws the microphone up to his mouth level and clears his throat.  
That’s when Gordon Walker stands up and screams “FAGGOT,” as loud as he possibly can. It’s silent for a second as the word reverberates across the field. Cas blinks in surprise. He looks up at the crowd just in time to see Dean punch Gordon in the face for all he’s worth. And then chaos erupts. Dean just barely registers that someone is grabbing him from behind, holding him in place before Gordon takes a swing at his face and everything goes black.

Dean wakes up in a bed. It’s not his bed, and it’s not a very comfortable bed, but his head hurts enough so that he doesn’t really mind that. The first thing he notices when he opens his eyes is that it is very bright, the kind of fluorescent lighting only used in hospitals and schools and other places no one actually wants to be in.  
“Hey boy. You’re awake,” comes a gruff voice from a chair beside Dean’s bed. Dean turns his head toward the voice and sees John, looking more worried than Dean thinks he has any right to.  
“How long was I out?” Dean asks. His voice is scratchy and dry and his father hands him a styrofoam filled with water.  
“Few hours. Nothing major. Docs think it’s a concussion but you should be out of here soon enough,” John explains. He doesn’t sound or look angry, which is weird. Dean just ruined the only chance John will ever get to see his oldest son graduate by punching a guy in the face, causing pandemonium in the middle of graduation and getting knocked cold before he even got to walk across the stage.  
“I’m sorry, dad. You’re probably pretty pissed at me.”  
“No, Dean. I’m not,” says John. He looks amused. “That was the most exciting graduation I’ve ever been to.” When Dean continues to silently sip his water, John continues. “Look, what you did was brave. It was braver than anything I’ve ever done, and I’m proud of you. I don’t tell you that enough, but I am. I know I’ve… I know I could have done better with, well, with a lot of things these past few years. But you turned out alright, didn’t you? And Castiel… Dean, the kid’s been right by your side the whole time you were out. I just now sent him and Sammy back to the school to pick up your diploma. They’re giving it to you still, by the way. They weren’t going to, but by the time I was through with the sons of bitches… anyway. Cas seems like a real good kid. I don’t get it, probably never will, but you seem happy with him and I guess that’s all that matters, right? I’ve done enough butting into your life. Time for you to make your own decisions.”  
Dean’s first thought is that he’s in a coma. The punch sent him into a coma and now he’s sitting in some alternate dimension of a dream world where his dad gives a shit about him and actually understands a thing or two. He blinks. Shakes his head, all but pinches himself until he’s able to finally decide that, yeah, this is really happening.  
“Wow, dad, I. I don’t know what to say,” Dean finally stammers, shaking his head in disbelief.  
“You don’t have to say anything,” John says. “Well, actually, you do. Tell me about your plans. What do you want to do now that high school’s over and you’ve got an, um, boyfriend?”  
“Well I was thinking of moving to San Francisco with Cas, you know, taking up interior decorating. Cas could be a hair stylist. He’s got a real flair for it, you should see what he can do with a bottle of gel.”  
John narrows his eyebrows in frustrated confusion.  
“Dad. Joking,” Dean says. “I’m thinking about becoming a mechanic. Maybe I could get a job at a shop somewhere. Don’t know about Cas. We’ll make something work out, you don’t have to worry.”  
“Trust me, son, I’m plenty worried.”

They talk for a while about the best places to live, prices of apartments, and all the while it’s just starting to sink in that maybe this is actually going to happen. It’s too fucking close to a fairy tale ending for Dean to fully believe it, but as he talks through various plans with John, he starts to picture the ending, how he wants it. And it’s pretty damn good. Who knows? Maybe it’s time for something good to happen to Dean. He doesn’t like to think about the concept of destiny, or fate, and he sure as hell doesn’t like to believe that he’s entitled to anything. But maybe this time, Dean punched the right asshole in the face for once. Maybe somewhere, God is up there thanking him.

Epilogue

Dean never thought he'd be the one to leave. Sam had always been the rebellious one, and Dean the faithful servant. He always thought that if anyone were to give the middle finger to their dad's plan and walk away, it sure as hell wouldn't be him. But then came a boy with ruffled hair and eyes like the morning and, without even meaning to, he tore up the life John Winchester had fabricated for his son, and made it whole again.  
That's what Castiel did, Dean thinks, made him whole. As cliched as it sounds, Dean is certain of it. He and Castiel are like two pieces of entirely different jigsaw puzzles that, for some inexplicable reason, fit together perfectly to form something completely unanticipated.  
And it's perfect, what they have. Or as damn near perfect as it's possible to get. Not the 200 square foot apartment or the shitty minimum wage jobs or their neighbor the nocturnal, amateur violinist. But none of that really matters. What matters is staring up at Dean from the mattress they share, tired face painted with orange stripes from the glow of the city through the slits of their cheap plastic blinds, asking him if he ever thought in a million years that they would end up here. Dean doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. He cups a hand to Castiel's face, brushing a thumb along his cheekbone.  
Dean doesn't know what the future holds. He knows it's not going to be easy. Nothing good ever is. He knows there will be nights where he doesn't sleep a wink and weeks where all they can afford to eat is ramen noodles and stupid fights about nothing. But despite all of this, as he looks down at Castiel, Dean can't help but grin stupidly at his luck. He smiles because, for once, he thinks they're gonna be alright.


End file.
